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US 

and 

THE BOTTLE MAN 










W'e hoped the Bottle Man would like the letter 






US 

and 

THE BOTTLE MAN 


BY 

EDITH BALLINGER PRICE 

Author of “Silver Shoal Light,’* 
“Blue Magic,” etc. 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY' 
THE AUTHOR 



NEW’ -YORK 
THE CENTURY CO.' 
1920 


Copyright, 1920, by 
The Centuby Co. 



^ /• 

23 1920 

'©CI.A576142 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


We hoped the Bottle Man would like the 
letter Frontispiece 

FACINQ 

PAGE 

Greg rigged himself up as an Excavator . 22 

“ Hang on, Chris ! ’’ Jerry said. ** I can 
get it’' 92 

** Ye be Three Poore Mariners ” . . .130 






} 



V 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


I 



US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


CHAPTER I 

I T began with Jerry’s finishing off all the 
olives that were left, ‘like a pig would 
do,” as Greg said. His finishing the olives 
left us the bottle, of course, and there is 
only one natural thing to do with an empty 
olive-bottle when you ’re on a water picnic. 
That is, to write a message as though you 
were a shipwrecked mariner, and seal it up 
in the bottle and chuck it as far out as ever 
you can. 

We ’d all gone over to Wecanicut on the 
ferry, — Mother and Aunt Ailsa and Jerry 
and Greg and I, — and we were picnick- 
ing beside the big fallen-over slab that 
3 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


looks just like the entrance to a pirate 
cave. We had a fire, of course, and a lot 
of things to eat, including the olives, which 
were a fancy addition bought by Aunt 
Ailsa as we were running for the ferry. 

When we asked her if she had any pa- 
per, she tore a perfectly nice leaf out of her 
sketch-book, and gave me her 3 B drawing- 
pencil to write with. It was very soft, and 
the paper was the roughish kind that 
comes in sketch-books, so that the writing 
was smeary and looked quite as if ship- 
wrecked mariners had written it with 
charred twigs out of the fire. We ’d 
done lots of messages when we were on 
other water picnics, but we ’d never heard 
from any of them, although one reason 
for that was that we never put our address 
on them. We decided we would this time, 
because Jerry had just been reading about 
a fisherman in Newfoundland picking up 
a message that somebody had chucked 
4 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


from a yacht in the Gulf of Mexico months 
and months before. 

I wrote the date at the top, near the rag- 
gedy place where the leaf was torn out 
of Aunt Ailsa's sketch-book, and then I 
put, 'We be Three Poore Mariners,'' like 
the song in "Pan-Pipes." 

Jerry and Greg kept telling me things to 
write, till the page was quite full and went 
something like this : 

"We be Three Poore Mariners, cast 
away upon the lone and desolate shore of 
Wecanicut, an island in the Atlantic 
Ocean, lat. and long, unknown. Our po- 
sition is very perilous, as we have ex- 
hausted all our supplies, including large 
stores of olives, and are now forced to 
exist on beach-peas, barnacles, and — 
and — " 

"Eiligugs' eggs," said Greg, dreamily. 

Jerry pounced on him and said they only 
grew on the Irish coast, but I said: 

5 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

^'All right ! Beach-peas, barnacles, and 
eiligugs’ eggs, of which only a small sup- 
ply is to be had on this bleak and dismal 
coast. Our ship, the good ferry-boat 
Wecanicut, left us marooned, and there is 
no hope of our being picked up for the next 
two hours. Any person finding this mes- 
sage, please come to our assistance by 
dropping us a line,’^ (I must honestly say 
that this was Jerry’s, and much better than 
usual) ^‘as the surf is too heavy for boats 
to land on this end of the island. 
Signed:—” 

‘^Don’t sign it ‘Christine’,” Jerry said. 
“Put ‘Chris,’ if we ’re to be real mariners.” 

So I put “Chris Holford, set. 13,^ which 
I thought might look more dignified and 
scholarly than “aged,” and Jerry wrote 
“Gerald M. Holford,” and put “set. ii” 
after it, but I ’m sure he did n’t know what 
it meant until I did it. Then we stuck 
6 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


the paper at Greg, and he stared at it ever 
so long and finally said: 

^‘Ate eleven! He ate lots more than 
that ; I saw him.’’ 

Jerry pounced again, — I was laughing 
too hard to, — and said : 

‘Tt ’s not olives, silly ; it ’s an abbre- 
viated French way of saying how old we 
are.” 

Then I had to pounce on him, and tell 
him it was Latin, as he might know by the 
diphthong. By that time Greg had writ- 
ten ''Gregory Holford, Ate 8,” across the 
bottom, very large, and Jerry said he 
might as well have put 8 8 and had done 
with it. We folded the paper up in the 
tinfoil that the chocolate came in and 
jammed it into the bottle and pounded the 
cork in tight with a stone. Greg was all 
for chucking it immediately, but Jerry said 
it would have a better chance if we 
7 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


dropped it right into the current from the 
ferry going home. So we cocked the bot- 
tle up on a rock and went back to the 
pirate-cave-entrance place to finish a 
game of smugglers. 

Wecanicut is a nice place to smuggle 
and do other dark deeds in, and I don’t be- 
lieve we ’ll ever be too old to think it ’s 
fun. This time we cut the rest of the tin- 
foil into roundish pieces with Jerry’s jack- 
knife, and stowed them into a cranny in 
the cave. They shone rather faintly and 
looked exactly like double moidores, ex- 
cept that those are gold, I think. We also 
borrowed Aunt Ailsa’s hatpin with the 
Persian coin on the end. By running the 
pin down into the sand all the way, you 
can make it look just like a goldpiece lying 
on the floor of the cave. She is a very 
obliging aunt and does n’t mind our doing 
this sort of thing, — in fact, she plays lots 
of the games, too, and she can groan more 
8 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

hollowly than any of us, when groans are 
needed. 

This time we did n’t ask her to, because 
she was reading a book by H. G. Wells to 
Mother, and anyway all our proceedings 
were supposed to be going on in the most 
Stealthy and Silent Secrecy. The moi- 
dores and the Persian coin were all that 
was left of an enormous lot of things 
which the villainous band had buried, — 
golden chains, and uncut jewels, and pots 
of louis d’ ors, and church chalices (Jerry 
says chasubles, but I think not). Greg 
and Jerry had dragged all these things up 
from the edge of the water in big empty 
armfuls, and we stamped the sand down 
over them. It really looked exactly as if 
the tinfoil moidores were a handful that 
was left over. Greg was just giving the 
final stamp, when Jerry crooked his hand 
over his ear and said : 

‘‘Hist, men ! What was that ?” 

9 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


They were having artillery practice 
down at the Fort, and just then a terrific 
volley went sputtering off. 

'' ’Tis a broadside from the English ves- 
sel Jerry said. 'We are pursued 

We crept out from the cave and made 
off up the shore as fast as possible. Jerry 
went ahead and jumped up on a rock to 
reconnoiter. He did look quite piratical, 
with my black sailor tie bound tight over 
his head and two buttons of his shirt un- 
done. Greg had his own necktie wrapped 
around his head, but several locks of hair 
had escaped from under it. He always 
manages to have something not quite right 
about his costumes. He has very nice 
hair — curly, and quite amberish colored — 
but it ’s not at all like a pirate’s. I poked 
him from behind to make him hurry, for 
Jerry was pointing at a big schooner that 
was coming down the harbor. We all lay 
down flat behind the rock until she had 


lO 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


gone slowly around the point. We could 
see the sun winking on something that 
might have been a cannon in her waist — 
that 's the place where cannon always are 
— and of course the captain must have 
been keeping a sharp lookout landward 
with his spy-glass. 

‘^Eh, mon/’ said Jerry, when the schoon- 
er had passed, ‘‘but yon was a verra close 
thing 

That's one of the worst things about 
Jerry, — the way he mixes up language. 
We 'd been reading “Kidnapped," and I 
suppose he forgot he was n't Alan. 

“Silence, dog!" I said, to remind him 
of who we were. “Very like she 's but 
hove to in the offing, and for aught you 
know she 's maybe sending ashore the 
jolly-boat by now." 

“Then let 's go to the end of the point 
and have a look," Greg suggested. 

He does n't often make speeches, be- 


II 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

cause Jerry is apt to pounce on him and 
tell him he ’s 'Too plain American/’ but I 
think it is n’t fair, because he has n’t read 
as many books as Jerry and I. So I hur- 
ried up and said : 

"Bravely spoke, my lad; so we will, my 
hearty !” And we crawled and clambered 
along till we came to the end of the point 
where it ’s all stones and seaweed and big 
surf sometimes. The surf was not very 
high this time, — just waves that went 
whoosh and then pulled the pebbles back 
with a nice scrawpy sound. The schooner 
was half-way down to the Headland, not 
paying any attention to us. 

"Ah ha !” Jerry said, "safe once more 
from an ignominious death. But, Chris, 
look at the Sea Monster! What’s hap- 
pened to it?” 

The Sea Monster is a bare black rock- 
island off the end of Wecanicut. We 
called it that because it looks like one, and 


12 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


it has nT any other name that we know of. 
We ’d always wanted awfully to go out 
there and explore it, but the only time we 
ever asked old Captain Moss, who has 
boats for hire, he said, 'Thunderin’ bad 
landin’. Nothin’ to see there but a clutter 
o’ gulls’ nests,” and went on painting the 
Jolly Nancy, which is his nicest boat. 

But the thing that Jerry was pointing 
out now was very queer indeed. It was 
just a little too far away to see clearly 
what had happened, but it seemed as if a 
piece of rock had fallen away on the side 
toward us, leaving a jaggedy opening as 
black as a hat and high enough for a per- 
son to stand upright in. 

"The entrance to a subaground tunnel !” 
Greg shouted, leaping up and down in the 
edge of a wave. 

He will say "subaground,” and it really 
is quite as sensible as some words. 

"The entrance to a real pirate cave, you 

13 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

mean said Jerry. ''Glory, Chris, I really 
should n’t wonder if it were. Captain 
Kidd was up and down the coast here. 
What if they buried stuff in there and 
then propped a big chunk of rock up 
against the hole ?” 

"I wish we had a telescope,” I said, 
"though I don’t suppose we could see into 
the blackness with it. Mercy, I wish we 
could get out there ! It ’s more worth ex- 
ploring than ever.” 

"Let’s tell Mother and Aunt!” said 
Greg, and started running back down the 
beach, shouting something all the way. 

Mother said, "Nonsense!” and, "Of 
course it ’s a natural cave in the rock. 
You probably only noticed it today.” 

But she and Aunt Ailsa shut up the 
H. G. Wells book and came to look. They 
did think, when they saw it, that it was 
something new. Aunt Ailsa thought it 
looked very exciting and mysterious, but 

14 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


she agreed with Mother that it was no sort 
of place to go to in a boat. 

‘‘Just look at the white foam flinging 
around those rocks/' she said; “and 
there 's practically no surf on today.” 

We had to admit that it was n't a nice- 
looking place to land on from a rowboat, 
but we did wish that we were hardy ad- 
venturing men, bold of heart and unde- 
terred by grown-ups. We knew, too, that 
Captain Moss would say, “Pshaw !'' if we 
told him there might be treasure on the 
Sea Monster, and he certainly wouldn't 
risk the Jolly Nancy on those rocks in her 
nice new green paint. 

We were so much excited about the 
Sea Monster suddenly having a big 
black hole in it that we almost forgot to 
take the bottle when we went home. We 
did forget Aunt Ailsa's hatpin, and Greg 
had to run back for it, because he can run 
faster than any of the rest of us, and 

15 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

Captain Lewis held the ferry for him. 
Everybody leaned out from the rail and 
peered up the landing, because they 
thought it must be a fire or the President 
or something. They all looked awfully 
disappointed when it was only Greg, with 
the black necktie still around his head and 
Aunt’s hatpin held very far away from 
him so that it would n’t hurt him if he fell 
down. He tumbled on board just as the 
nice brown Portuguese man who works 
the rattley chain thing at the landings was 
pushing the collapsible gate shut, and 
Greg gasped : 

‘T brought — ^the moidores — too !” 

But Jerry collared him and pulled the 
necktie off his head. Jerry hates to have 
his relatives look silly in public, but I 
thought Greg looked very nice. 

We chucked the bottle overboard from 
the upper deck, just when the Wecanicut 
was halfway over. The nice Portuguese 

i6 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

man shouted up, ‘'Hey! You drop some- 
thing?'’ but we told him it was just an 
old bottle we did n't want, and not to 
mind. We watched it go bob-bobbing 
along beside an old barrel-head that was 
floating by, and we wondered how far it 
would go, and if it would leak and sink. 
The tide was exactly right to carry it out- 
side, if all went well. 

“Perhaps," said Greg, when we were 
halfway up Luke Street, going home, and 
had almost forgotten the bottle, “perhaps 
it will land on the Sea Monster, and the 
pirates will find it." 

“Glory!" said Jerry, “perhaps it will." 


n 


CHAPTER II 


O F course we didn’t really suppose 
that any one would pick up the bot- 
tle, unless it might be some Greek fisher- 
man who would sling it back into the water 
again. I ’m afraid I suspected that it 
would just bob about under some slimy 
pier-head until it got smashed at last, but 
Greg was so sure that it would go to Kam- 
chatka at least, or some out-of-the-way 
place, that I hated to tell him my fears. 
He asked everybody the queerest questions 
about currents and the Gulf Stream, and 
then sat figuring things out on his fingers. 
He ’d never been so much interested in 
the other bottles we ’d launched the sum- 
mer before, but then, they had n’t our ad- 
dress in them, and he was littler, too. 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


After awhile we all forgot the bottle — 
even Greg — except that now and then 
somebody would wonder what did become 
of it. We also forgot about the hole in 
the Sea Monster, because there were no 
more picnics on Wecanicut for weeks. 
This was on account of its being the rain- 
iest June any one had ever heard of, — 
even Captain Moss, who is so old that he 
can remember more Junes than any one 
else we know. 

Just in the middle of the rainiest week 
came the thing that made Aunt Ailsa so 
sad. She read it in the newspaper, in the 
casualty list. It was the last summer of 
the war, and there were great long casu- 
alty lists every day. This said that Some- 
body-or-other Westland was ‘Vounded 
and missing.’’ We didn’t know why it 
made her so sad, because we ’d never heard 
of such a person, but of course it was up 
to us to cheer her up as much as possible. 

19 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

Picnics being out of the question, it had 
to be indoor cheering, which is harder. 
Greg succeeded better than the rest of us, 
I think. He is still little enough to sit on 
people’s laps (though his legs spill over, 
quantities). He sat on Aunt Ailsa’s lap 
and told her long stories which she seemed 
to like much better than the H. G. Wells 
books. He also dragged her off to join 
in attic games, and she liked those, too, 
and laughed sometimes quite like herself. 

Attic games are n’t so bad, though sum- 
mer ’s not the proper time for them, really. 
There is a long cornery sort of closet full 
of carpets that runs back under the eaves 
in our attic, and if you strew handfuls of 
beads and tin washers among the carpets 
and then dig for them in the dark with a 
hockey-stick and a pocket flash-light, it ’s 
not poor fun. Unfortunately my head 
knocks against the highest part of the roof 
now, yet I still do think it ’s fun. But 
20 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


Aunt Ailsa is twenty-six and she likes it, 
so I suppose I need n’t give up. 

The day Aunt Ailsa really laughed was 
when Greg rigged himself up as an Exca- 
vator. That is, he said he was an exca- 
vator, but I never saw anything before 
that looked at all like him. He had the 
round Indian basket from Mother’s work- 
table on his head, and some automobile 
goggles, and yards and yards of green 
braid wound over his jumper, and Moth- 
er’s carriage-boots, which came just be- 
low the tops of his socks. In his hand he 
had what I think was a rake-handle — it 
was much taller than he — and he had the 
queerest, glassy, goggling expression un- 
der the basket. 

He never will learn to fix proper clothes. 
He might have seen what he should have 
done by looking at Jerry, who had an old 
felt hat with a bit of candle-end (not lit) 
stuck in the ribbon, and a bandana tied 


21 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


askew around his neck. But Aunt Ailsa 
laughed and laughed, which was what we 
wanted her to do, so neither of us remon- 
strated with Greg that time. 

Father plays the ’cello, — that is, he does 
when he has time, — and he found time to 
play it with Aunt, who does piano. I 
think she really liked that better than the 
attic games, and we did, too, in a way. 
The living-room of our house is quite low- 
ceilinged, and part of it is under the roof, 
so that you can hear the rain on it. The 
boys lay on the floor, and Mother and I 
sat on the couch, and we listened to the 
rain on the roof and the sound — some- 
thing like rain — of the piano, and Father’s 
’cello booming along with it. They 
played a thing called ''Air Religieux” that 
I think none of us will ever hear again 
without thinking of the humming on the 
roof and the candles all around the room 


22 



Greg rigged himself uo as an Excavator 







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US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


and one big one on the piano beside Aunt 
Ailsa, making her hair all shiny. Her 
hair is amberish, too, like Greg’s, but her 
eyes are a very golden kind of brown, while 
his are dark blue. 

We thought she ’d forgotten about be- 
ing sad, but one night when I couldn’t 
sleep because it was so hot I heard her 
crying, and Mother talking the way she 
does to us when something makes us un- 
happy. I felt rather frightened, some- 
how, and wretched, and I covered up my 
ears because I didn’t think Aunt would 
want me to hear them talking there. 

The next day the sun really came out 
and stayed out. All of us came out, too, 
and explored the garden. The grass had 
grown till it stood up like hay, and there 
were such tall green weeds in the flower- 
beds that Mother could n’t believe they ’d 
grown during the rain and thought they 

23 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


were some phlox she 'd overlooked. The 
phlox itself was staggering with flowers, 
and all the lupin leaves held round water- 
drops in the hollows of their five-fingered 
hands. Greg said that they were fairy 
wash-basins. He also found a drowned 
field-mouse and a sparrow. He was 
frightfully sorry about it, and carried them 
around wrapped up in a warm flannel till 
Mother begged him to give them a military 
funeral. Jerry soaked all the labels off a 
cigar-box, and then burned a most beauti- 
ful inscription on the lid with his pyro- 
graphy outfit. Part of the inscription was 
a poem by Greg, which went like this: 

“O little sparrow, 

Perhaps to-morrow 

You will fly in a blue house. 

And perhaps you will run 
In the sun, 

Little field-mouse.” 

Jerry did nT see what Greg meant by a 
24 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

"'blue house/' but I did, and I think it was 
rather nice. I copied the poem secretly, 
before the cigar-box was buried at the 
end of the rose-bed. I think Greg really 
cried, but he had so much black mosquito 
netting hanging over the brim of his best 
hat that I could n't be sure. 

Fourth of July came and went — the 
very patriotic one, when everybody saved 
their fireworks-money to buy W. S. S. 
with. We bought W. S. S. and made very 
grand fireworks out of joss-sticks. Joss- 
sticks have wonderful possibilities that 
most people don't know about. The three 
of us went down to the foot of the garden 
after dark and did an exhibition for 
the others. By whisking the joss-sticks 
around by their floppy handles you can 
make all sorts of fiery circles. I made two 
little ones for eyes, and Greg did a nose in 
the middle, and Jerry twirled a curvy one 

25 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

underneath for a mouth that could be 
either smiling or ferocious. A little way 
off you can’t see the people who do it at 
all, and it looks just like a great fiery face 
with a changing, wobbly expression. 

Then Greg did a fire dance with two 
sparklers. He dances rather well, — not 
real one-steps and waltzes, but weird 
things he makes up himself. This one 
lasted as long as the sparklers burned, and 
it was quite gorgeous. After that we had 
a candle-light procession around the gar- 
den, and the grown people said that the 
candles looked very mysterious bobbing 
in and out between the trees. We felt 
more like high priests than patriots, but 
it was very festive and wonderful, and 
when we ended by having cakes and lime- 
juice on the porch at half-past nine, every- 
body agreed that it had been a real celebra- 
tion and quite different. 

In spite of being up so late the night be- 
26 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

fore, Greg was the first one down to break- 
fast next morning. Our postman always 
brings the mail just before the end of 
breakfast, and we can hear him click the 
gate as he comes in. This morning Jerry 
and Greg dashed for the mail together, 
and Greg squeezed through where Jerry 
thought he could nT and got there first. 
When they came back, Jerry was 
saying : 

‘Tet me have it, won't you; it'll take 
you all day!" and dodging his arm over 
Greg's shoulder. 

'‘Messrs. Christopher, Gerald, and 
Gregory Holford; 17 Luke Street," Greg 
read slowly. Then he tripped over the 
threshold and floundered on to me, flour- 
ishing the big envelope and shouting : 

"It 's funny paper, and it 's funny writ- 
ing, and I know it 's from The Bottle!" 

"My stars!" said Jerry, with a final 
snatch. 


27 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

But I had the envelope, and I looked at 
it very carefully. 

“Boys,” I said, “I truly believe that 
it is.” 


28 


CHAPTER III 


T he envelope was a square, thinnish 
one, addressed in very small, black 
handwriting. 

^Tt must be from The Bottle,’' Jerry 
said; '‘otherwise they wouldn’t have 
thought you were a boy and put Chris- 
topher.” 

I had been thinking just the same thing 
while I was trying to open the envelope. 
It was one of the very tightly stuck kind 
that scrumples up when you try to rip it 
with your finger, and we had to slit it with 
a fruit-knife before we could get at the 
letter. There were sheets of thin paper 
all covered with writing, and when Jerry 
and Greg saw that, they both fell upon it 
so that none of us could read it at all. I 
29 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


persuaded them that the quickest thing to 
do would be to let me read it aloud, and 
as we ’d finished breakfast anyway, we 
each took our last piece of toast in our 
hands and went out and sat on the bottom 
step of the porch. I read : 

Fellow Adventurers and Mariners in Distress: 

By this time there may be naught left of you 
but a whitening huddle of bones, surf bleached 
on the end of Wecanicut, — for I know well 
what meager fare are eiligugs’ eggs and barna- 
cles. However, I take the chance of finding at 
least one of you alive, and address you frater- 
nally as a companion in distress. 

I am myself stranded on a cheerless island 
where, against my will, I am kept captive — for 
how long a time I cannot guess. I was brought 
here at night, only forty-eight hours ago, and 
landed from a vessel which almost immediately 
departed whence it had come, into the darkness. 
My captors left me to go with the vessel, the 
chief of them threatening to return every week 
to torment me unless I obeyed his slightest com- 
mand. I stand in great fear of this man, who 
is tall and bearded, for he brings with him in- 

30 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


struments of torture and bottles containing, with- 
out doubt, poison. 

Can you imagine my joy when, tottering down 
the beach this morning, supporting my frame 
upon two sticks, I beheld your bottle cast up on 
the sands? Now, thought I, I can unburden 
myself to these three unfortunate men, obviously 
in even greater distress than my own, and we 
can, perhaps, ease each other’s monotonous 
maroonity. Scholars, too, I perceive, you to be, 
— witness the Latin following your signatures. 
Ah well. Grata superveniet quae non sperahitur 
hora, as the poet so truly says, and I cannot ex- 
press to you how eager, how happy I am, in the 
thought of communicating with some one other 
than the natives of this desolate isle. These in- 
habitants, though friendly on the whole, are un- 
couth and barbaric. They spend their entire 
time fishing from boats which they build them- 
selves, or squatting beside their huts mending 
their fishing implements. 

The good soul with whom I am lodging is 
calling me to my scanty repast. In the rude lan- 
guage of the place she tells me that there is 
“Krabss al ad an dunny.” How can I live long, 
I ask, on such fare ? Hopefully, your 

Castaway Comrade. 


31 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


P. S. My address — mail reaches me from time 
to time, by aforesaid vessel — is P. O. Box 14, 
Blue Harbor, Me. ME stands for Mid Equator, 
but the abbreviation is sufficient. Blue Harbor 
is my own literal translation of the native Bluar 
Boor. Box 14 refers to the native system of de- 
livering messages. P. O. has, I think, something 
to do with the P. & O. steamers, which, however, 
do not very often touch here. 

‘T told you it would go around the 
world!” Greg said, when I had finished, 
and Jerry and I were staring at each other. 

^Welir Jerry said at last. ^What 
luck!” 

'T should rather say so,” I said; '"sup- 
pose a fisherman had found it, or no one 
at all.” 

“Bless his old heart,” said Jerry, tak- 
ing the letter. 

I wanted to know why “old.” 

“He must be ancient if he has to totter 
along on two sticks,” Jerry said. “Be- 
sides, he has a stately, professorish sort of 
32 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


style. Do you suppose he really does 
want us to write to him?’’ 

''Of course he does,” Greg said ; "he tells 
us to often enough. Think of being alone 
out there with savages, and that bearded 
chief coming with poison bottles and all.^’ 

"Shut up, Greg,” said Jerry; "you don’t 
understand. There ’s more in this than 
meets the eye, Chris. I did n’t get on to 
this crab salad business when you read it.” 

Neither had I ; in fact, I had n’t got on 
to it until Jerry said it in proper English. 

"He ’s a good sort, poor old dear,” 
I said. "Why do you suppose they keep 
him out there?” 

"He ’s there of his own free will, right 
enough,” Jerry said. 

But I did n’t think so. 

We were still confabbing over the letter, 
and explaining bits to Greg, who was hope- 
lessly mystified, when Mother came out to 
transplant some columbine that had wan- 
33 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

dered into the lawn. We did a quick se- 
cret consultation and then decided to let 
her in on the Castaway. So we bolted 
after her and took away the trowel and 
showed her the letter. She read it 
through twice, and then said : 

‘‘Oh, Ailsa must hear this, and Father 
But what we wanted to know was 
whether or not we might write to the 
Castaway, because we did n’t quite want 
to without letting her know about it. She 
laughed some more and said, “yes, we 
might,” and that he was “a dear,” which 
was what we thought. 

We decided that we would write imme- 
diately, so Jerry dashed off to Father’s 
study and got two sheets of nice thin pa- 
per with “17 Luke Street” at the top in 
humpy green letters, and I borrowed Aunt 
Ailsa’s fountain-pen, which turned out to 
be empty. I might have known it, for 
they always are empty when you need them 
34 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


most. Jerry, like a goose, filled it over the 
clean paper we were going to use for the 
letter, and it slobbered blue ink all over 
the top sheet. But the under one was n’t 
hurt, and we thought one page full would 
be all we could write, anyway. We took 
the things out to the porch table, and Greg 
held down the corner of the paper so it 
would n’t flap while I wrote. Jerry sat 
on the arm of my chair and thought so 
excitedly that it jiggled me. 

But minutes went on, and the fountain 
pen began to ooze from being too full, and 
none of us could think of a single thing 
to say. 

'Tf we just write to him ourselves, — in 
our own form, I mean,” Jerry said, ^'it ’ll 
be stupid. And I don’t feel maroonish 
here on the porch. We ’ll have to wait till 
we go to Wecanicut again, and write from 
there.” 

I felt somehow the way Jerry did, so 
35 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

we put away the things again and went 
out under the hemlock tree to talk about 
the Castaway. Greg did n’t come, and we 
supposed he ’d gone to feed a tame toad he 
had that year, or something. The toad 
lived under the syringa bush beside the 
gate, and Greg insisted that it came out 
when he whistled for it, but it never would 
perform when we went on purpose to 
watch it, so I don’t know whether it did or 
not. 

Under the hemlock is one of the best 
places in the garden for councils and such. 
The branches quite touch the grass, and 
when you creep under them you are in a 
dark, golden sort of tent, crackley and 
sweet-smelling. You can slither pine-nee- 
dles through your fingers as you discuss, 
too, and it helps you to think. We 
thought for quite a long time, and then I 
got out the letter and spread it down in 
36 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


one of the wavy patches of sunlight, and 
we read it again. 

^'Did you really think anybody 'd find 
it?’’ Jerry asked suddenly, and I told him 
I had nT thought so. 

''Neither did I,'' he said; "let alone such 
a jolly old soul. Why, he ’d be better than 
Aunt on a picnic.'’ 

"I do wonder why he has to stay there," 
I said. 

"Perhaps he 's a fugitive from justice," 
Jerry suggested; "or perhaps he 's a pris- 
oner and the bearded person comes out 
with Spanish Inquisition things to make 
him confess his horrible crime." 

"He sounds like a person who 'd done a 
horrible crime, does n't he !" I said in 
scorn. 

"Well, then," said Jerry, who really has 
the most inspired ideas for plots, "perhaps 
he 's an innocent old man whose wicked 
37 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

nephews want to frighten him into chang- 
ing his will, leaving an enormous fortune 
to them. And they Te keeping him on the 
island till he ’ll do it.” 

''Well, whatever it is,” I said, ‘T don’t 
think he ’s awfully happy somehow, and 
it ’s nice of him to write such a gorgeous 
thing.” 

So we both decided that whether he was 
staying on the island of his own free will, 
or in bondage, in any case it must be 
frightfully dull for him and that our let- 
ter ought to be interesting and cheerful. 

Just then the hemlock branches 
thrashed apart and Greg crawled under 
with pine-needles in his hair. He sat 
back on his heels and blinked at us, be- 
cause he ’d just come out of the sunlight. 

‘T thought somehoiy ought to write to 
the Bottle Man,” he said, ''so I did.” 

"Well, I never!” Jerry said. 

Greg fished up a bent piece of paper 
38 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

from inside his jumper and handed it to 
me. 

‘'You can see it,” he said, “but not 
Jerry.” 

“As if I 'd want to!” Jerry said; but he 
did, fearfully. 

Greg is the most unexpected person I 
ever knew. He’s always doing things like 
that, when everyone else has given up. 

I spread his paper out on top of the other 
letter, and he sprawled down beside me, 
all ready to explain with his finger. What 
with his dreadfully bad writing and the 
sunlight moving ofif the paper all the time 
as the branches swayed, it took me ever 
so long to read the thing. This is what 
it was : 

Dear Bottle Man: 

To-day we got your leter wich surprised us very 
much. Although I kept hopeing and hopeing 
some body would find the bottle. We are not 
so distresed now because we were picked up 


39 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


and now have toast and other things beter than 
barnicles. I mesured from here to the equater 
on the big map and it is an aufuly far way for 
the bottle to go. Only I thought it would. I 
am sorry you are so imprisined on the Hand and 
please dont let the cheif with the beard poisen 
you because we would like to hear from you 
agan. If there is tresure on that iland I should 
think you could look for it and it would be 
exiting. But prehaps there is none. We hope 
there is some on Wecanicut. But it is hard to 
know sirtainly. Chris and Jerry are going to 
do a leter. But I thought I would first. I hope 
the saviges will be frendly all ways. 

Your respecfull comrade, 

Gregory Holford. 

P. S. None of us are Bones yet. 

‘Will it do?'’ Greg asked anxiously, 
when I folded it up. His eyes grow very 
dark when he 's anxious, and they were 
perfectly inky now. You never would 
have guessed that they were really blue. 

“It 'll do splendidly," I said, for I did 
think the Castaway man would like Greg's 
letter tremendously. 

40 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

'‘Better let me see it, my lad,’’ said 
Jerry, rolling over among the pine-cones 
and sitting up. 

Greg got his precious letter with a 
snatch and a squeak, and scurried off with 
it. I pitched Jerry back on to the pine- 
needles, because I knew he ’d never let the 
thing go if he saw it. 

"Oh, let him send it,” I said. "It ’s per- 
fectly all right, and it will do the Bottle 
Man heaps of good.” 

But Jerry growled about "beastly 
scrawls” and was n’t pleased with me un- 
til supper-time. 

Somehow we all began calling our island 
person the "Bottle Man” after Greg did, 
for it seemed as good a name as any for 
him, seeing that we did n’t know his real 
one. We read the letter from him after 
supper to Aunt Ailsa, and she laughed and 
liked it, and so did Father. We also asked 
Father what the Latin meant, and he made 

41 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

a funny face and said he ’d forgotten such 
things, but then he looked at it again and 
told us it meant something like this: 

‘The happy hour shall come, all the 
more appreciated because it comes unex- 
pectedly.’’ 

So we went to bed thinking about our 
poor old Bottle Man consoling himself 
out there ori his island with Latin quota- 
tions. 


42 


CHAPTER IV 


W E all went to Wecanicut next day, 
which was a glorious one, and 
when the food had disappeared we three 
walked up the point and wrote to the Bot- 
tle Man from there. We ’d decided that 
the paper with ‘'17 Luke Street’' on it was 
much too grand for ‘'poore mariners” any- 
way, so we 'd just brought brownish paper 
that comes in a block. We told the Bot- 
tle Man how wonderful we thought it was 
that he had found our message, and how 
his letter had cheered our lonely watching 
for a sail. Also, how we had been picked 
up and were returned now to Wecanicut 
of our own will, seeking rich treasure. 
We described the “Sea Monster” very 
carefully, and wrote about the black cave- 
43 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

entrance-looking place that had happened, 
where no boat would dare to venture. 
Jerry’s description of it was quite wild. 
He dictated it to me above the shrieking 
of a lot of gulls which were flying over us 
all the time. It went like this : 

'^The Sea Monster was quite terrific 
enough looking before, like the slimy black 
head of something huge coming out of the 
water. Now it looks as if it had opened 
a cavernous maw” (I’m sure he nabbed 
that from some book) '‘as black as ink, 
ready to swallow any unfortunate mariner 
which came near. Below the base of this 
fearsome hole roars the cruel surf, ready 
to engulf a boat which would never be seen 
more if it was once caught in this deadly 
eddy.” 

I thought "deadly eddy” sounded like 
Illiteration, or something you shouldn’t 
do, in the Rhetoric Books, but Jerry was 
much excited over his description. He sat 
44 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

on top of a rock, pointing out at the Sea 
Monster like a prophet. He has quite 
black hair which blows around wildly, and 
he looked very strange sitting up there rav- 
ing about the cavern. The letter was very 
long by the time we M put in everything, 
and we hoped the Bottle Man would like 
it. Just before we signed it, I said: 

''Do you think we ’d better tell him Fm 
really Christine and not Christopher?” 

''No'' Jerry said; "put Chris, the way 
you did before. He ’s writing now as 
man to man. He might be disgusted if 
he knew it was just a mere female.” 

"Oh, thank you,” I said; but I did put 
"Chris,” on account of our all being fellow 
castaways. 

When we ’d finished the letter we 
walked a long way down the other shore 
toward the Fort. The wind was blow- 
ing right, and we could hear bits of what 
the band was playing and now and then 
45 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

peppery sounds from the rifle practice. 
It ’s not a very big fort, but it squats on 
the other side of Wecanicut, watching the 
bay, and real cannon stick out at loop- 
holes in the wall. The ferry really only 
goes to Wecanicut on account of the Fort, 
because there ’s nothing else there but a 
few farm houses and some ugly summer 
cottages near the ferry-slip. The point 
from which you see the Monster is not 
near the Fort or the houses at all, and is 
much the wildest part of Wecanicut. 
When you Te standing on the very end 
you might think you really were on a de- 
serted island, because you can look straight 
out to sea. 

We cut back cross-country through the 
bay-bushes and the dry, tickly grass to 
our usual part of Wecanicut, where the 
grown-ups were just beginning to collect 
the baskets and things and to look at their 
watches. We posted the letter on the way 
46 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


home, and Greg jiggled the flap of the let- 
ter-box twice to make sure that it was n't 
stuck. 

It was that week that Jerry sprained his 
ankle jumping off the porch-roof and had 
to sit in the big wicker chair with his foot 
on a pillow for days. He hated it, but 
he did n't make any fuss at all, which was 
decent of him considering that the weather 
was the best we 'd had all summer. We 
played chess, which he likes because he 
can always beat me, and also ^Tounce," 
which pulls your eyes out after a little 
while and burns holes in your brain. It 's 
that frightful card game where you try to 
get rid of thirteen cards before any one 
else, and snatch at aces in the middle, on 
top of everybody. Jerry is horribly clever 
at it and shouts “Pounce!" first almost 
every time. Greg always has at least 
twelve of his thirteen cards left and ex- 
47 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

plains to you very carefully how he had 
it all planned very far ahead and would 
have won if Jerry had n’t said ^Tounce” 
so soon. 

Also, Father let Jerry play the ’cello, 
and he made heavenly hideous sounds 
which he said were exactly like what the 
Sea Monster’s voice would be if it had 
one. Just when we were all rather de- 
spairing, because Dr. Topham said that 
Jerry must n’t walk for two days more, the 
very thing happened which we ’d been hop- 
ing for. Greg came up all the porch steps 
at once with one bounce, brandishing a 
square envelope and shouting: 

‘The Bottle Man!” 

It was addressed to all of us, but I 
turned it over to Jerry to do the honors 
with, on account of his being a poor invalid 
and Abused by Fate. He had the envelope 
open in two shakes, with the complicated 
knife he always carries, and pulled out any 
48 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


amount of paper. He stared at the top 
page for a minute, and then said : 

''Here, Greg, this is for you. You can 
be pawing over it while we ’re reading the 
proper one.” 

But I said, "Not so fast,” and "Let’s 
hear it all, one at a time.” 

So I took Greg’s and read it aloud, be- 
cause he takes such an everlasting time 
over handwriting and this writing was 
rather queer and hard to read. This is 
his letter: 

Respected Comrade Gregory Holford: 

I am writing to you separately because you 
wrote to me separately, and very much I liked 
your letter. I cannot tell you how much re- 
lieved I am to hear that toast has been sub- 
stituted for barnacles in your diet. In the long 
run, toast is far better for a mariner, however 
hardy he may be. 

It is indeed a long way from Wecanicut to the 
Equator, — but are you sure you measured to ME. 
^Mid Equator ? It is very different, you know. 
The bearded one is pleased with me and has not 
49 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


brought his poison bottles of late, but thank you 
for not wanting me to die just now. I do not 
know of any treasure in Bluar Boor, but I refer 
you to the enclosed letter which tells something of 
treasure elsewhere. I hope your search on 
Wecanicut, my dear sir, will be richly rewarded. 

Please note that I refer to natives, not savages. 
There is a vasty difference; more than you per- 
haps might suppose. 

May I inscribe myself your most humble 
servant, 

The Bottle Man. 

P. S. Um .yo glad your Bones are still where 
they belong. 

Greg was counting elaborately on his 
fingers, and said : 

^T believe he answered ^z^^rything in my 
letter, but please let me have it, because 
there are some things I need to work out 
myself/’ 

''Now for the business,” Jerry said. 
"This must be the whole sad story of his 
life, — there’s pages of it. Coil yourself 

50 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

up comfortably, Chris, and I ’ll fire away/' 
So I coiled up beside Greg on the Glou- 
cester hammock, and Jerry began to read. 


CHAPTER V 


From my desolate island refuge I salute the 
Intrepid Trio! Good sirs, what you tell me of 
the “Sea Monster” makes my flesh creep and my 
hair stir with terror. A murderous bad place 
I should call it, and not one to trifle with. Yet 
it might well be, as you think, that the sudden- 
appearing cavern is the mouth of a pirate cave 
fairly bursting with treasure, and only now ex- 
posed to the eyes of such daring adventurers as 
yourselves by a trick of the elements. Strange 
things there be above and below the waters of 
the world — which serves to remind me of a tale 
you might not scorn to hear. You may take it 
or leave it, as you will, but at least the penning 
of it will pass some of my hours of banishment 
in a pleasant fashion. 

In the year of grace i8 — (I shudder to think 
how long ago) I was a bold youth of perhaps the 
age of the valiant Christopher. 

Here Jerry paused to give a muffled 
hoot at me. I chucked a hammock 
cushion at him, and he went on : 

52 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

My father’s house stood on a rambling street 
in an old waterside town, and from the windows 
of my room I could see the topmasts of sailing 
ships thrusting upward above gray roofs. Small 
marvel that my head should be filled with the 
ways of the sea and the wonder of it, or that I 
should spend long hours dreaming over books 
that told of adventures thereon. It was over 
such a book that I was poring one summer’s 
evening as I sat in the library bow-window, 
The breeze from the harbor came in and stirred 
the curtains beside my head, and brought with 
it the last westering ripple of sunlight and a 
smell of climbing roses. The book had dropped 
from my hand and I was well-nigh drowsing, 
when I saw, as plain as day, the queerest figure 
possible clicking open our .garden gate. He 
looked to be some sort of South American half- 
breed, — swart face under rough black hair, and 
striped blanket gathered over dirty white trousers. 
Now I had seen many a strange man disembark 
from ships, but never such a one as this, and 
when I saw that he was coming straight toward 
my window, I was half tempted to make an 
escape. 

He leaned on the sill of the open casement with 
his dark face just below mine and began to pour 


53 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


out, in halting English, a tale which at first I 
had some trouble in understanding. The most 
that I made of it was that he, and he alone, knew 
the whereabouts of a city buried ages since 
under the sea and filled with treasure of an un- 
believable description. But you may imagine 
that even the hint of such a thing was enough 
to set me all athrill, and I was not greatly sur- 
prised at myself when I found that I was fol- 
lowing the queer, slinking figure down our bare 
little New England street. 

He led me to a ship, an old brigantine heavy 
with age and barnacles and hung about with the 
sorriest gray rags of canvas that ever did duty 
for sails. No wonder that nine days out we lost 
our fore tops'l. But stay; I fear I go too fast! 
For you must know that I went aboard that brig- 
antine, and once aboard I could not go ashore 
again, partly because the strange, ill-assorted 
crew detained me at every turn, and partly be- 
cause the longing was so strong upon me to see 
the things I had read of so often. And that night 
found me still upon the vessel, nosing down to 
the harbor light, with the lamps of my father's 
house winking less and less brightly on the dim 
shore astern. 

Well, sirs, it would weary you to tell much 

54 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


of that voyage, and besides, many's the time 
you yourselves must have weathered the Horn. 
For it was 'round Cape Stiff we went — no Pan- 
ama Canal in those days — and I served a bitter 
apprenticeship on ice-coated yards, clutching num- 
bly at battering sails frozen stiff as iron. It was 
Peru we were bound for, — Peru where the sub- 
marine city lay beneath uncounted fathoms wait- 
ing for us. The captain and I were the only 
ones Acuma, the half-breed, had taken into his 
confidence ; all the others sailed on a blind errand, 
trusting to the skipper, who was a shrewd man 
and severe. And the brigantine wallowed around 
the Cape and toiled on and on up the coast, and 
every day Acuma grew more restless ; every day 
he cast about the water with eyes that seemed 
to pierce to the very bottom of the Pacific. 

One day of blue sky and little breeze, when 
we were pushing the brigantine with all sails set, 
Acuma flung himself at a bound to the quarter- 
deck, and a moment later the skipper shouted 
quick orders that the crew could not understand 
for the life of them. For to heave the ship to, 
just when we all had been whistling for enough 
breeze to give her something more than steerage 
way, seemed nothing short of insane. Acuma 
climbed to the maintop and looked at the coast 


55 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

of Peru with a telescope, and the captain took 
bearings with his instruments. 

It was Acuma and I who went over the side 
in diving suits, for no others save the captain 
knew what we sought, as I have said. Down I 
went and down, with the weight of water crush- 
ing ever more strongly against me, till I stood 
upon the sea’s floor. That in itself was quite 
wonderful enough — the green whiteness of the 
sand and the strange, multi-colored forest of 
weed and coral through which my searchlight 
bored a single, luminous pathway. But right 
ahead, looming and wavering, seen for an in- 
stant, lost again when a deep vibration stirred and 
swayed the water, shone the faintly golden shape 
of a great portal. Acuma I had lost sight of, 
but I had no need to ask him what lay before 
me. The wild pounding of my heart told me 
that I stood at the gateway of the city that had 
been covered a thousand thousand years ago 
by the unheeding sea. Leaning at an angle 
against the tide, I struggled forward till the 
great gate towered above me, its arch half lost 
in the green, swimming shadow of the water. 
But as I flashed my light up across its pillars, 
it answered with the shifting sparkle of gems 
crusted thick upon it. 


56 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


I walked then, breathless, into a street paved 
with rough silver ingots, each one surely weighing 
a quintal, between tremulous shapes of buildings 
which pointed lustrous towers upward through 
fathoms of green water. It was many minutes 
before I dared enter one of those great silent 
halls. Dragging my heavy leaden-soled boots, 
I pushed through a shapely silver doorway, and a 
fish darted past me as I entered. Who could im- 
agine the wonder of that vast room ! The mosaic 
that covered the walls and ceilings was of gold 
and jewels, not porphyry and serpentine, such as 
delight the wondering visitor to Venice, but 
precious stones — rubies, sapphires, emeralds, 
amethysts as richly purple as grape clusters, topaz 
as clear and mellow as honey. 

Behind a traceried grillwork lay heaped a 
mound of treasures such as no human eye will 
ever see again. I lifted a little tree fashioned 
all of gold, — each leaf wrought of the metal — 
and strung with jewelled fruits on which ruby- 
eyed golden birds fed. In despairing rapture I 
clutched after a neck ornament hung with pen- 
dulous pearls as large as plums. But as I reached 
for it, I felt that something was looking at me 
from the corner. Not Acuma; no human being 
was in sight. Peering out through the glass 


57 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


visor of my helmet, I saw fixed on me from low 
down beside the doorway two inky, moveless eyes 
as large as saucers. They were not human eyes, 
nor did they belong to any sea creature I had 
ever beheld or read of. They were round and 
fixed, pools of bottomless blackness, staring at 
me through two varas of clear, swaying water. 
I took an uncertain step backwards, and as I did 
so I felt something soft and heavy laid slowly and 
slimily upon my shoulder. . . . 

Ah me, here is an interruption ! A native child 
approaches, bearing as an offering a Lol Ipop 
(one of the native fruits). Just before he reaches 
me he falls face down, doubtless out of respect 
for my gray hairs, and, on arising, proffers me 
the Lol Ipop, now coated with sand. In this 
state I am expected to eat it, and, being in great 
awe and fear of the inhabitants, I proceed to do 
so, which incapacitates me for further epistola- 
tory effort. 

So, till I recover from the effects of my en- 
forced meal, believe me your devoted correspond- 
ent, 

The Bottle Man. 

‘‘Well, of all mean tricks!’’ Jerry said. 
“It ’s worse than a continued story,” I 
58 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

said. '^Bother the horrid native child! 
Do you suppose that ’s really why he 
stopped?'’ 

‘Trobably not; he knew it was the ex- 
citingest place to stop. What did I tell 
you about his being ancient? Now he 
says he has gray hairs, so that proves it.” 

'T should think he might,” I said, ‘'after 
such experiences. What do you think it 
could have been that stared at him?” 

“An octopus, most likely,” Jerry said. 
“They have goggly black eyes ; I Ve read 
it.” 

“But he said he 'd never seen such eyes 
on any sea beast he knew of, and he 's read 
as much as you have ; that 's sure. 

“That treasure! Oh, my eye!” Jerry 
sighed. “Do you suppose he brought 
home hunks of it?” 

“Just the same hunks that we dig up on 
Wecanicut, I suppose,” I said. 

“You mean you think he 's making up 
59 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

the whole yarn?’' Jerry asked. “Well, 
even if he is, it 's a mighty good one, and 
it might have happened to him, at that.” 

Greg looked up suddenly from beside 
me, and said: 

think the thing what stared at him 
was a mer-person.” 

“My child,” said Jerry, “I believe 
you’re right.” 


6o 


/ 


CHAPTER VI 


N ext day Jerry was well enough to 
walk around with a cane, and when 
he ’d broken Father’s second-best malacca 
stick by vaulting over the box border with 
it, we decided that he was quite all right, 
and the summer went on again as usual. 
Of course we wrote to the Bottle Man at 
once, and told him, as respectfully as we 
could, just what we thought of him for 
letting the native child interrupt him in 
such an exciting part. We also begged 
him to write again as soon as possible, and 
to choose a place where the inhabitants 
were n’t likely to come with offerings. 
We kept waiting and waiting, and no let- 
ter came, so we settled ourselves to Grim 
Resignation, as Jerry said. It was worse 

6i 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

than waiting for the next number of a 
serial story, because you Te pretty certain 
when that will come, but we had no idea 
how long it would be before the Bottle 
Man wrote to us. 

Aunt Ailsa still needed cheering up a 
good deal, and that kept us busy. The 
cheering was great fun for us, because it 
consisted mostly of picnics and long, long 
walks, — the kind where you take a stick 
and a kit-bag and eat your lunch under a 
hedge, like a tinker. We also wrote a 
story which we used to put in instalments 
under her plate at breakfast every other 
day. We took turns writing the story, 
and Greg's instalments always made Aunt 
Ailsa the most cheered up of all. The 
story was much too long to put in here, 
and rather ridiculous, besides. 

By this time it was almost September, 
and asters were beginning to bloom in the 
garden and the hollyhocks were almost 
* 62 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


gone. Wecanicut was turning the dry, 
russetty color that it does late in the sum- 
mer, and the harbor seemed bluer every 
day. Captain Moss took us out in the 
Jolly Nancy one afternoon just for kind- 
ness — we did nT hire her at all. She is a 
sixteen-footer and quite fast, in spite of 
being rather broad in the beam. He let 
each of us steer her and told us a great 
many names of things on her, which I for- 
got immediately. Jerry always remem- 
bers things like that and can talk about 
reef-cringles and topping-lift as if he 
really knew what they were for. We 
went quite far out and saw the Sea Mon- 
ster from a different side in the distance, 
and tacked down to the other end of We- 
canicut under the Fort guns. 

It was when we got in from the gor- 
geous sail, with Greg carrying the little 
basket all made of twisted-up rope Captain 
Moss had done for him, that we found a 

63 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


big, square envelope lying on the hall table. 
And, to our despair, supper was just ready 
and we could n’t read the letter till after- 
ward. Supper was good, I must admit, — 
baked eggs, all crusty and buttery on 
top, and muffins, and cherry jam. We ate 
hugely, because of the Jolly Nancy mak- 
ing us so hungry. 

When we ’d finished we went into Fath- 
er’s study, where he was n’t, and turned on 
the desk-light and got at the letter. I read 
it, while the boys crouched about expect- 
antly. Here it is : 

Dear Comrades: 

I should have answered your frantic appeals 
for news of me long since, had I not been slav- 
ishly occupied in carrying out the demands of 
the Man of Torture from whom I am now com- 
pletely released, praises be. I am even contem- 
plating escape from Bluar Boor by stealth. But 
no doubt you have no desire for these modern 
details and are all agog to find out whether or 
not I met a wretched death at the bottom of the 

64 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


sea. I think you left me — or I left you — with a 
soft and hideous something resting upon my 
shoulder. 

Sirs, it was a Hand, a webbed hand, and turn- 
ing, I looked straight down into another pair of 
flat dark eyes. They belonged to a creature not 
as tall as I, and certainly not human in shape. 
Arms and legs it had, of a sort, and scales, also, 
and finny spines, and a soft slimy body. Then, 
through the door which led to the silver street, 
I saw more of the creatures, and more, — a soft, 
hurrying crowd patting over the ingot blocks 
which paved the road, peering in at the door, 
beckoning with webby fingers. 

My helmet smothered the cry I gave as I strug- 
gled against the horrible resistance of the water 
toward the door. Out in the street the mer- 
crowd surrounded me, fingered my arms, looking 
at me with unfathomable, disc-like eyes, black as 
ink. With dawning comprehension it came over 
me that these creatures inhabited the desolate, 
sea-filled city, lived in the mighty golden halls 
that once had echoed to the footsteps of Peruvian 
kings, fared about the rich streets where coral now 
grew instead of tree and flower. 

The things were speechless, with no seeming 
means of communication, and I saw, too, that they 

65 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


could not leave the sea-bottom, but walked upon 
it as we do upon earth, and could no more rise 
than we can leap into the air and swim upon it. 
I tried to push my difficult way through the 
clinging swarm, who seemed friendly enough in 
a weir-d, inhuman way, but I could not pass 
through. Dimly through the swinging water I 
could see others coming from every carven door- 
way down the silent street. I thought then of 
the weights attached to me, and I decided to cut 
them loose at once and rise from the ghostly 
place, of which I had seen quite enough to suit 
me. But I determined to take with me at least 
one thing from the vast mounds of treasure 
which held me breathless with utter bewilder- 
ment. 

So I turned and with my long knife began 
prying from its doorway a ruby as large as my 
fist. Instantly, without warning, the creature 
nearest me raised its scaly hand in a flinging ges- 
ture, and I felt a hot and rushing pain just above 
my right elbow. I felt, too, a coldness of water 
spurting down my arm and clutched wildly at 
the sleeve of my diving-suit to seal the little 
hole which I saw in it. Holding it tightly with 
my left hand, I slashed with my right at the 
creatures who were now moving upon me menac- 

66 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


ingly, pressing me close. If they forced me back 
into the doorway, all hope would be gone. I 
cut desperately at the fastenings that secured the 
weights ; felt myself rising ; felt my legs pull out 
from the clinging, slimy arms; looked down at 
them — a sea of bobbing smooth heads, of round, 
expressionless, black eyes ; saw them waving 
their tentacle-like arms in fury; saw at last the 
dim, golden crest of the tallest tower below my 
feet; burst above the blessed sea-level and saw 
good blue waves slapping the bow of the brigan- 
tine drifting lazily down toward me. 

I know nothing of the voyage home. I must 
have been poisoned by the missile, whatever it 
was, that the sea-creature flung at me. (I bear 
the scar to this day.) For I have no recollection 
of much more, until I sat in the library bow-win- 
dow of my father’s house, very tired and stiff 
and thoroughly thankful that the voyage was 
over. It was dark, and my mother sat sewing 
beside a shaded lamp and singing to herself. I 
fingered the book that lay beside me on the win- 
dow-seat, and said : 

^‘Mother, did you keep the book just here all 
the time I was gone because you were sorry I 
went and wanted to remember me ? 

She laughed, and said: “Yes, all the time 

67 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


while you were sailing to the Port of Stars. 
Come now to supper, my dear.” 

So I got up very stiffly, for I felt weak and 
dizzy still, and went with her. I said : 

‘‘I 'm sorry. Mother, that after all I could n’t 
bring you any of the jewels.” 

Whereupon she laughed again and said some- 
thing about “Cornelia” which I am too modest 
to repeat, but which, being scholars, you will 
know by heart, and said that she was glad enough 
to have me back at all. 

Sirs, you cannot think how beautiful our little 
dining-room looked to me, with the old brass- 
handled highboy in the corner and the pots of 
flowers on the sill — far more beautiful than the 
fretted golden towers and gem-girdled walls of 
the City under the Sea. 

So take my advice, young sirs, the advice of a 
man many years older than you bold young 
blades : don’t you ever go listening to a half-breed 
Peruvian that comes slinking to your window, no 
matter how enticing may be his tales of treasure. 

Your most faithful 

Bottle Man. 

''Do you think he dreamed it?'' Jerry 
said. 


68 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

‘Whatever it was, he must have been 
glad to get back,’' I said, switching off the 
light so that we could talk in the dark, 
which is more creepy and pleasant. 

“But the treasure!” Jerry said. “Do 
you suppose there ever was such treasure 
in the world? That’s something like! 
Imagine finding gold trees and birds eat- 
ing jewels on the Sea Monster! By the 
way, do you know about ‘Cornelia’?” 

I said I thought she had something to 
do with sitting on a hill and her children 
turning to stone one after the other, but 
Jerry said that was Niobe and that it was 
she who turned to stone, not the children. 
He has a fearfully long memory. So we 
put on the light again and looked it up in 
“The Reader’s Handbook,” because we 
did n’t want to bother the grown-ups, and 
we found, of course, that she was the Ro- 
man lady who pointed at her sons and said, 
“These are my jewels!” when somebody 
69 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

asked her where her gold and ornaments 
were. So naturally the Bottle Man 
did nT feel like repeating such a compli- 
mentary thing, being an un-stuck-up per- 
son, but we did think it was nice of his 
mother. 

We put away the '^Handbook’’ and made 
the room dark again and were arguing 
over all the exciting places in the Bottle 
Man’s story, when Greg spoke up sud- 
denly from the corner where we ’d almost 
forgotten him. 

'Tf I found a thing like those mer-per- 
sons,” he said drowsily, 'T wouldn’t let 
it bite me. I ’d keep it in the bath-tub 
and teach it how to do things.” 

^'Like your precious toad, I suppose,” 
said Jerry. ''Don’t be idiotic.” 

So we all went to bed, and I, for one, 
dreamed about all kinds of glittering 
treasures and heaps of jewels each as big 
as your hat, and of our nice old Bottle 
70 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

Man, with his long white beard flowing 
in the wind. 

And now comes the perfectly awful part. 


71 


CHAPTER VII 


I MUST say at the beginning that it 
was all my fault. Jerry says that it 
was just as much his, but it was n’t, be- 
cause I ’m the oldest and I ought to have 
known better. To begin with. Father had 
to go to New York to give a talk at the 
American Architects’ League, or some- 
thing, and Mother decided to go with him. 
At the last minute Aunt Ailsa got a week- 
end invitation from somebody she had n’t 
seen for ages and went away, too, which 
left us alone with Katy and Lena. Katy 
has been with us next to forever and took 
care of Jerry and Greg when they were 
Infant Babes, so that Mother never im- 
agined, of course, that anything could hap- 
72 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

pen in two days. It was nT Katy's fault 
either. 

The first day was foggy, and the garden 
dripped, so we went down to call on Cap- 
tain Moss, who lives near the ferry-land- 
ing. Besides having boats for hire, he 
sells such things as fishing-tackle and very 
strong-smelling rope, and sometimes salt 
herring on a stick. The things he sells are 
all mixed up with parts of his own boats 
and pieces of canvas and rope-ends, and 
curly shavings that skitter across the floor 
when the wind blows in from the harbor. 
There is a window at one end of his shop- 
place that goes all the way to the floor, like 
a doorway, and it is always open. His 
shop is half on the ferry-wharf so that the 
window hangs right over the water, very 
high above it. It is quite a dizzyish place, 
but wonderful to look out at. Far away 
you see boats coming in, and Wecanicut 
all flat and gray, and then right below is 
73 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


nice sloshy green water with old boxes and 
straws floating by, and sometimes horrid 
orange-peels that picnic people throw in. 

That afternoon Captain Moss was 
mending the stern of one of his boats, and 
when we asked him what he was fitting on, 
he said: '^Rudder-gudgeons.” 

He grunted it out so funnily that it 
sounded just like some queer old flounder 
trying to talk, and we thought he was jok- 
ing. But he was n’t at all. Sometimes 
he is very nice and tells us the longest 
yarns about when he shipped on a whaler, 
but this time he was busy and the rudder- 
gudgeons did n’t behave right, I think, so 
he let us do all the talking. We told him 
a good deal about the bottle, and also 
something about the city under the sea. 
He said he shouldn’t wonder at it, for 
there was powerful curious things under 
the sea. He also said he supposed now 
we ’d be wanting to hire the Jolly Nancy 
74 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

‘Ter to find submarine cities, sence he 
would nT let us have her to go a-stavin’ in 
her bottom on them rocks ofif Wecanicut.” 

We decided that he really didn’t want 
to be bothered, so we went away presently. 
To soothe him, Jerry bought some of the 
dry herring things and carried them home 
in a pasteboard box that said doz. gal- 
vanized line cleats. Extra quality” on the 
lid. Lena cooked the herrings for supper, 
but I don’t think she could have done it 
right, because they were quite horrid. 

The second day was the perfectly gor- 
geous kind that makes you want to go off 
to seek your fortune or dance on top of a 
high hill or do anything rather than stay 
at home, however nice your own garden 
may be. We agreed about this at break- 
fast, and I said : 

“Let ’s go to Wecanicut.” 

We 'd never* gone to Wecanicut alone, 
but I couldn't see any reason why we 
75 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


should n’t. Captain Lewis, on the ferry, 
always watches over every one on board 
with a fatherly sort of eye, and Wecanicut 
itself is a perfectly safe, mild place, with- 
out any quicksands or tigers or anything 
that Mother would object to. 

‘T tell you what,” Jerry said, “let ’s 
make it a real adventure and take some 
costumes along. We never had any prop- 
er ones there before.” 

I thought this was a rather good idea, 
and after breakfast we went up to select 
things that wouldn’t be too bothersome 
to carry, from the Property Basket. 

“Is it to be pirates or smugglers or 
what?” Greg asked, poking in the corner 
where he keeps his own special rigs. 

“Explorers, my fine fellow,” Jerry said, 
“exploring after a submerged city.” 

“Oh !” Greg said, evidently changing his 
ideas. 


76 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


Jerry and I went down to ask Katy to 
make us some lunch. 

''Just food; nothing careful/’ Jerry ex- 
plained. 

‘'What are ye goin’ to do with it?” Katy 
asked. 

Jerry was all ready to say, “Eat it, of 
course,” but I saw what Katy meant and 
said : 

“We ’re going out; it ’s such a nice day. 
We thought we ’d take our lunch with us 
to save Lena trouble.” 

“Don’t get streelin’ off too far,” Katy 
said, “Where are ye goin’ ?” 

“Oh, down by the shore,” I said, which 
was not quite the whole truth, because of 
course it was not our shore, but the shore 
of Wecanicut I meant. Yes, all of it was 
my fault. 

Just as we were putting the lunch into 
the kit-bag Greg came staggering down- 
77 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

stairs, trailing along the weirdest lot of 
stuff he ’d collected. 

‘'What on earth is all that?’’ Jerry asked 
him. “Drop it and get your hat.” 

“It ’s — my costume,” Greg explained, 
out of breath from having dragged all the 
things down from the attic. 

“Glory!” Jerry said, “You don’t suppose 
you ’re going to lug all that rubbish on to 
the ferry, do you? Not while I with 
you, my boy.” 

“You could n’t begin to put on half of 
it, Gregs,” I said. “Let ’s weed it out a 
little.” 

“And look sharp about it,” Jerry said, 
jingling the money for the ferry in his 
pocket. 

Greg finally took a Turkish fez thing, 
and a black-and-orange sash, and a white 
brocade waistcoat that Father once had 
for a masque ball ages ago. We had n’t 
time to tell him that it was no sort of out- 
78 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

fit for an explorer, so we bundled the 
things up with our own and stuffed them 
all into the kit-bag on top of the lunch. 

Luke Street has a turn in it just beyond 
our house, so neither Katy nor Lena could 
have seen which way we went; anyhow, 
I think they were both in the back kitchen, 
which looks out on the clothes-yard. I 
thought perhaps we should have told Katy 
where we were going after all, but Jerry 
said: 

^'Fiddlesticks, Chris; we’re not babies. 
I suppose you ’d like Katy to take us in a 
perambulator.” 

This was horrid of him, but he made up 
for everything later on. 

Our Captain Lewis was not in the pilot- 
house of the Wecanicut, Instead there 
was a strange captain, a scraggly, cross- 
looking person, staring at a little book and 
not watching the people who came on 
79 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

board, the way Captain Lewis does. Jerry 
and I sat on campstools on the windy side, 
and Greg went to watch the walking-beam, 
which he thinks will some day knock the 
top off its house. It always stops and 
plunges down just when he thinks it surely 
will forget and go smashing on up through 
the roof. He is quite disappointed that it 
never does. It behaved perfectly properly 
this time and paddled the old ferry-boat 
over to Wecanicut as usual. 

We went up the hot little road that goes 
from the landing, and then ran through a 
prickly, stony short-cut that leads among 
wild rose-bushes and sweet fern to our 
part of the shore. There were tiny little 
wavelets splashing over the rocks, and you 
couldn’t think which was bluer — the sea 
or the sky. The first thing we did was 
to bury our bottle of root-beer in a pool 
up to its neck and mark the place with 
two white stones. This i§ something we 
8o 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

have learned by experience, for nothing 
is nastier than warm root-beer. Then we 
put on the costumes and capered about a 
little. I had a tight, striped football jer- 
sey, and my gym bloomers, and a black, 
villainous-looking felt hat; and Jerry had 
a ruffle pinned on the front of his shirt, 
and a wide belt with the big tinfoil-covered 
buckle that Mother made for us once, and 
a felt hat fastened up on the sides so that 
it looked like a real three-cornered one. 
Greg had arrayed himself in his things,, 
and he did look too absurd, with more than 
a foot of the brocade waistcoat dangling 
below the sash, the end of which trailed 
on the ground behind. 

It gave us a queer, wild feeling, being 
there without the grown-ups, and we de- 
cided to tell them that as we ’d proved we 
could do it, we might go again. We never 
did tell them that, as it happens. 

We all grew hungry so soon that we had 

8i 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

lunch much earlier than the grown-ups 
would have had it. The food Katy had 
fixed was wonderful, though rather 
squashed on account of all the costumes 
being on top of it in the kit-bag. While 
we ate we organized the Submerged-City- 
Seeking-Expedition. Jerry was ‘'Terry 
Loganshaw,’’ in charge of the party, and 
I was “Christopher Hole, shipmaster,'’ 
and Greg was “Baroo, the Madagascar 
cabin-boy," because we could n’t think of 
what else he could be, with such clothes. 

We tidied up all the picnic things so 
that there was nothing left, and put the 
root-beer bottle into the kit-bag, because 
it was a good one with a patent top. The 
kit-bag we took with us for dufHe, and we 
set off for the point. We went by the 
longest way we could think of, to make it 
seem like a real expedition, — ’cross coun- 
try and back again. Jerry led us through 
the scratchy, overgrown part of Wecani- 
82 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

cut, and we pretended that it was a long, 
weary trek through the most poisonous 
jungles to the coast of Peru; and when 
Greg walked right into a spider's web with 
a huge yellow spider gloating in the mid- 
dle of it, he said he 'd been bitten by a tar- 
antula. We told him that we should have 
to leave him there to die, for we must press 
on to the sea, but he cured himself by eat- 
ing a magic sweet-fern leaf and came run- 
ning after us, tripping over his sash. The 
trekking took a long time, and when we 
reached the end of the point we were quite 
exhausted and flung our weary frames 
down on the tropic sand to rest. All at 
once Jerry clutched my arm and said : 

^‘Look yonder, Hole! Does not yon 
strange form appear to you like the topper- 
most minaret of a sunken tower?" 

He was pointing at the Sea Monster, 
and it really did look much more like a 
rough sort of dome than a monster's head. 

83 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


There was a lot of haze in the air, which 
made it look bluish and mysterious instead 
of rocky. 

'Tt do indeed, sir,’’ I said. ‘"Could it 
be that city we be seeking?” 

“Would that we had a boat !” said Greg, 
which might have been quite proper if he ’d 
been somebody else, instead of Baroo. 

We’ d been sprawling on the sand again 
for quite a while, when Jerry suddenly 
jumped up and shouted: 

“Glory! Look, Chris!” not at all like 
Terry Loganshaw. 

I did look, and saw what he had seen. 
It was an empty boat, a sort of dinghy, 
bobbing and butting along beside the rocks 
a little way down the shore. We all ran 
helter-skelter, and Jerry pulled off his 
shoes like a flash and waded out and pulled 
the boat in. 

“It’ s one of those old tubs from around 
the ferry-landing,” he said. “It must 

84 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

have got adrift and come down with the 
tide. Oars in it and all.’’ 

We stood there silently, Jerry in the 
water holding the boat, and we were all 
thinking the same thing. It was Greg 
who said it first, quite solemnly. 

^'We could go out to the Sea Monster.” 

Of course it was then that I ought to 
have said that we couldn’t, but Jerry 
pulled the boat up the beach and ran back 
to the end of the point to see how high 
the waves were before I could say it. It 
was too late to say it afterwards, because 
when we saw that there was not even the 
faintest curl of white foam around the 
Sea Monster, it did seem as though we 
could do it. 

'Tt ’ll only take about five minutes to 
row out there,” Jerry said, ‘'and then we ’ll 
have seen it at last. It could n’t be a bet- 
ter time. Why, a newly hatched duckling 
could swim out there to-day.” 

8S 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

It did look very near, and the water was 
calm and shiny, with just a long, heaving 
roll now and then, as if something under- 
neath were humping its shoulders. 

So I said, '‘All right; let’s,’’ and we 
climbed into the boat. Jerry rows very 
well, and he pulled both the oars while I 
bailed with an old tin can that I found 
under the stern thwart. The boat did n’t 
leak badly enough to worry about, but I 
thought it might be just as well to keep it 
bailed. We talked in a very nautical way, 
though Jerry kept forgetting he was 
Terry Loganshaw and mixing up "Treas- 
ure Island” and Captain Moss. But I 
did n’t feel so much like being Chris Hole, 
anyway, even to please the boys, and I 
did n’t say much. 

The Sea Monster was much further 
away than you might suppose. When 
there was ever so much smooth, swelling 
water between us and Wecanicut, the 
86 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


Monster’s head still seemed almost as 
far away as before. Somehow the water 
looked very deep, although you could n’t 
see down into it, and it humped itself un- 
der the boat. 


87 


CHAPTER VIII 


P RESENTLY Wecanicut began to 
drop further away, and then the Sea 
Monster loomed up suddenly right over 
us, and Jerry had to fend the boat off with 
an oar. We had never guessed how big 
the thing really was, — not big at all for an 
island, but very large for a bare, off-shore 
rock. I should say that it was just about 
the bigness of an ordinary house, and very 
black and beetling, with not a spear of 
grass or anything on it. When Jerry said, 
‘'My stars, what a weird place his voice 
went booming and rumbling in among the 
rocks, and a lot of gulls flew up suddenly, 
flapping and shrieking. He held the boat 
up against the edge of a rock while Greg 
and I got out. We took the kit-bag 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

ashore, and Jerry made the boat fast by 
putting a big piece of stone on top of the 
rope. There was nothing like a beach or 
even a shelving rock to pull it up on, so 
that was the best we could do. The boat 
backed away as far as it could, but the rope 
was firmly wedged between the rock and 
the stone so it could n't get away. 

Of course we went first to look at the 
black cave-entrance. Sure enough, a 
great flat slab had fallen down from it and 
lay half in the water, — we could see 
scratchy marks and broken places where 
it had slid. The cave itself was about 
six feet deep, and very dank and dismal- 
looking. There was no sigh of there ever 
having been treasure, for nobody could 
possibly have buried it, unless they 'd hewn 
places in the living rock, like ancient 
Egyptians. We might have thought of 
that before, but of course we did n't hon- 
estly believe that there was treasure. 
89 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


Somehow the Sea Monster didn't seem 
nearly so jolly and exciting as it had from 
Wecanicut. It was so real and big, and 
whenever a wave came in, it boomed and 
echoed under the hanging-over rocks. 
We climbed around to the other side and 
went up on top of the highest place, which 
was about three times as high as I am. 
From there we could see the Headland, 
very far away and blue, and Wecanicut 
behind us, safe and green and friendly- 
looking, but a long way off; and nothing 
else but a smeary line of smoke from a 
steamer at sea. 

‘We named this place well," I said; “it 
is a Monster." 

“Brrrr, hear it roar !" Jerry said. 
“The waves must be bigger, or something. 
There were n't any when we came out." 

We looked down and saw that the water 
was behaving differently. Instead of be- 
ing smooth and rolling, there was a skitter 
90 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


of sharp ripples all over it, and the waves 
went slap and frothed white when they hit 
the rock. The sky had changed, too. It 
was not so blue, and there were switchy 
mares’ tails across it, and the wind was 
blowing from Wecanicut, instead of to- 
ward it. 

‘We ’d better start back,” I said. ‘T ’m 
afraid we ’ll be late for the next ferry, as 
it is, and Father and Mother will be home 
on the six o’clock train.” 

“Whew!” said Jerry, “I’d forgotten 
that. It ’s latish already, judging by the 
sun. Come along, Greg, and loop up your 
sash so you won’t fall off this beast.” 

It was latish. The sun was quite low, 
and we saw that the Sea Monster threw 
a long, queer shadow on the water, as if 
the sea had been land. We hurried along 
to the boat, Jerry ahead. 

“She’s all right,” he shouted, turning 
around. 


91 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

When he turned back he made a sort of 
wild spring that I did n’t understand at 
first. Then I saw the stone we had put 
over the rope rolling off the rock, — joggled 
off by the boat’s pulling harder when a 
wave lifted it. The stone rolled in cornery 
bounces, with a dull noise, and the rope 
slipped after it slowly. I thought Jerry 
would be in time. I could n’t believe that 
I really saw the rope floating its whole 
length on the water, dry at first, then dark- 
ening wetly. 

‘‘Hang on, Chris!” Jerry said. “I can 
get it.” 

I caught his hand, and he snatched after 
the rope. But he plunged wildly, nearly 
pulling me in, and scrambled up at once 
with one leg wet to the hip. 

“There ’s no bottom at all,” he said 
queerly. “I believe the thing rises 
straight out of the sea.” 

By that time the boat was ten feet away 
92 



“ Hang on, Chris ! ” Jerry said. “ I can get it." 


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1 



US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


from the Monster. It circled once, very 
quietly, as if it were trying to decide which 
way to go, and then it drifted gently away 
toward the sea, with the rope trailing along 
like a snake swimming beside it. 

We stood there looking at the boat until 
it faded to a hazy speck, and by that time 
the sun was really low. I don’t think Greg 
altogether realized what had happened. 
We ’d played at being marooned so often 
that I suppose he did n’t quite see that this 
was different. 

I hope that I shall never, never forget, 
as long as I live, what a brick Jerry was 
through the whole of that nightmarish 
thing. I know I never shall. 

‘"Chris,” he said, “you stay on this side. 
I ’ll go around to the Headland side. 
Greg, you climb up on top. If any of us 
sees a boat near enough to do any good, 
call the others, and we ’ll all yell and wave 
things.” 


93 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

rd never heard his voice so command- 
ing, even in plays. He still had on the 
cocked hat, and it looked very strange in- 
deed. We scattered as he ordered, and 
when the others had gone, I remembered 
that Greg had on slippery-soled shoes in- 
stead of sneakers, which we usually wear. 
I thought of calling after him to be care- 
ful, but he never was a falling-down sort 
of person, even as a baby. I hoped, too, 
that he would have sense enough to loop 
up that sash or take it off entirely. 

I sat on the Wecanicut side and stared 
at the shore and the water till my eyes 
ached. More and more wind was blow- 
ing all the time, straight from Wecanicut. 
It blew so hard in my face that my eyes 
watered and I could n’t be sure whether or 
not I did see boats. In books, people think 
of all their past sins when they ’re in peril- 
ous positions, but all I could think of was 
94 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


that a boat must come before dark. I did 
think of how much it all was my fault, but 
that was not far enough in the past to 
count. Presently Jerry came back and 
said that if we moved a little toward each 
other we could see just as much of the bay 
and consult at the same time. So we did, 
and sat down not very far apart. I said 
that I supposed we ought to change off 
with Greg, because it was horrid lonely up 
there, but Jerry said : 

''Nonsense; he likes to be alone. He ’s 
probably pretending he ’s the King of the 
Cannibal Isle, or something, and not 
worrying a bit.’’ 

"I was looking us up in the dictionary 
the other day,” I said, trying to forget the 
Sea Monster for a minute, "and Gregory 
means 'watchful, vigilant’.” 

"Now ’s the first time he ’s ever lived up 
to his name, then,” said Jerry. "Keep 
looking, Chris, and don’t moon about.” 

95 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

We sat there for quite a long time with- 
out saying anything, and the last little 
golden sliver of sun disappeared behind the 
point, and the lighthouse on the Headland 
came out suddenly, though it was still quite 
light, and began to wink — two long flashes 
and two short ones. 

‘Ts n’t it queer,” Jerry said, ‘To think 
that people are there and we can’t possibly 
tell them.” 

‘Tt ’s worse than queer,” I said. 

Then we were still again, till presently 
Jerry said: 

“Do you hear that funny noise, Chris?” 

I had been listening to it just then, and 
said “Yes” and that I supposed it was the 
horrid noise the water made around on the 
other side. For quite a time we didn’t 
hear it, and then Jerry said: 

“There it is again! The water must 
suck into those echoey hollows. It sounds 
almost like a person groaning.” 

96 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

^'Don’tr Isaid. 

All at once he turned toward me and 
said in a queer, quick voice : 

''Do you suppose it could possibly be 
Greg?’' 

I can’t describe the way I felt when he 
said it, but if you ’ve ever felt the same 
you know what I mean. It was a little as 
though something heavy dropped from my 
throat down to my toes, through me, leav- 
ing me all empty, with cold, tingly things 
rushing up again to my head. They were 
still rushing as we flew around the rock, 
and I kept saying : 

"It can’t be Greg. ... It can't be ” 

But it was 

He was lying doubled up, just below the 
high place where Jerry had told him to 
keep watch. We didn’t dare to touch 
him, because we didn’t know how badly 
he was hurt, and he could n’t seem to tell 
97 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

us. But when I tried to put my arm under 
him, he pushed me a little and said, ''No, 
no,” so I stopped. Then I saw that his 
right arm was twisted under him horridly 
and that his shoulder looked all wrong. I 
touched it very gently and asked him if it 
was that, and he said, "Yes; don’t!” We 
had to get him out somehow from that 
jaggedy place in the rocks where he was ly- 
ing. So Jerry got him under the arm that 
was n’t hurt, and I took his legs, and we 
hauled him to a flattish part of the rock. 

I pulled off the football jersey and put 
it under him, and Jerry ran back to get 
my skirt, which I ’d put in the kit-bag 
when we fixed our costumes. Just after 
Jerry had gone something dreadful hap- 
pened. Quite suddenly Greg seemed to 
shrink smaller, and his face grew rather 
greenish and not at all like his, and his 
hand was perfectly cold when I snatched 
it. I suppose he ’d fainted from our 
98 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


carrying him so stupidly, but I ’d never 
seen anybody do it before and I didn't 
know that was the way it looked. I 'd 
never heard of people dying frorn hurting 
their arms, but I thought that perhap’s he 
was hurt somewhere else that we did n't 
know about. But by the time Jerry came 
back with the skirt Greg had opened his 
eyes and looked at me a little like himself. 

There is a book in our medicine cup- 
board at home called, ''Hints on First 
Aid." Jerry and I used to like to look at 
it, and Father said: 

"Go ahead; you may need it some day." 

But neither of us could remernber any- 
thing that was at all useful now. I could 
plainly see the picture of some queerly- 
drawn hands doing a "Spanish Windlass," 
but that wouldn't have done poor Greg 
any good at all. Jerry did remember that 
you ought to cut people's clothes and not 
try to take them off in the ordinary way, 
99 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


so he took out his knife and ripped up the 
sleeve of Greg’s jumper and the shoulder- 
seam of the white brocaded waistcoat. I 
don’t see how people can stand being Red 
Cross nurses in France, for I ’m sure I 
never could be one. Greg’s shoulder was 
quite awful, — what we could see, for it 
was almost dark now. There was nothing 
at all we dared to do. We could n’t even 
bathe it, for there was only sea-water, so 
I just sat and held Greg’s other hand and 
patted it. He did n’t cry, — I think the 
hurting was too bad for that, — ^but he 
moaned a little, and sometimes he said, 
^^Hurts, Chris.” 

I tried to tell him a story, the way I did 
when we all had the measles and he was 
so much sicker than the rest of us, but he 
couldn’t listen. So we just sat there in 
the dark — it was perfectly dark now and 
we could n’t see one another at all — and I 
began to count the flashes of the Headland 


100 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

light— two long and two short, two long 
and two short — till I thought I should 
scream. Suddenly Jerry said : 

"'Are you hungry, Chris?” 

I said that I was n’t, and asked him if he 
was. But he said: 

''No, not very.” 

There were real waves on the Wecanicut 
side of the Monster now, and the wind 
was still blowing from that direction 
harder than ever. Now and then a drop 
of spray would flick my cheek, and I think 
the sound of the wind around the rock 
was really more horrid than the noise the 
water made. It seemed like midnight, 
but it was really quite early in the evening, 
when Jerry saw the lights bobbing along 
the shore of Wecanicut. They were lan- 
terns, two of them, and they stopped quite 
often, as if the people were looking for 
something. For a minute I could n’t even 

lOI 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

move. Then I scrambled and slid after 
Jerry to the place on the Monster that 
most nearly faced the Wecanicut point. I 
don’t think Greg really knew we ’d left 
him ; at least he did n’t make a sound. 

The lanterns swung and bobbed nearer 
till they almost reached the point, and we 
could hear faint shouts. Jerry and I 
braced our feet against the slimy rocks and 
shrieked into the dark, and the wind 
rushed down our throats and burned them. 
We could hear the people quite clearly 
now. 

'Tt ’s Father’s voice,” Jerry said. ‘^Oh, 
Chris, the wind is dead against us. Now 
for it!” 

I ’d always thought Jerry could shout 
louder than any boy I ever heard, but you 
can’t imagine how high and thin both our 
voices sounded out there on the Sea Mon- 
ster. We heard Father’s voice quite dis- 
tinctly : 


102 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


''Chris-ti-ine. . . Jer-r-r-y. . . ti-in-e!’’ 

We shouted till our chests felt scraped 
raw, the way you feel when you Ve run 
too hard, and the wind tore our voices 
straight out to sea, away from Wecanicut. 
The lanterns stood quite still for a minute 
more, and then they bobbed away. At 
first I did n’t believe that they were really 
growing smaller and smaller. But they 
were, and at last they were gone entirely, 
far down the shore. 

^^Are you crying, Chris?” Jerry said 
suddenly, in a queer, wheezy voice. He ’d 
been shouting even harder than I had. 

^T think not,” I said, and my own voice 
was very strange indeed. 

Jerry whacked me hard on the back, and 
said: 

''Good old Chris ! Good old Chris !” 

The shore of Wecanicut was so black 
that we might have dreamed the lanterns, 
but I still could hear the way Father’s own 
103 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

voice had sounded, calling ‘‘Chris-ti-ine 
We almost stumbled over Greg when we 
crawled back to him, and he said : 

‘^Can we go home now, Chris 
The wind gnashed around in a spiteful 
kind of way, and Jerry touched my hand 
suddenly and said : 

“Chris, it 's raining.” 


104 


CHAPTER IX 


I T was raining, — big cold splashes that 
came faster and faster. I felt my 
blouse stick coldly to my shoulder in the 
places where it was wet. 

‘We can't let Greg lie there and have it 
rain on him,’' I said. 

Jerry and I thought of the pirate cave at 
the same moment, but we didn’t see how 
we could possibly carry Greg to it in the 
dark. We thought that as it was n’t his 
legs that were hurt he might be able to 
walk there, if we helped him. He was 
very brave and quite willing to try, though 
a little dazed about why we wanted him 
to, but when we stood him carefully on his 
feet, he said, “Chris — no — ” and we had 
to lay him down again. By this time it 
was really raining, and I put the skirt over 
105 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


Greg, instead of under him, while we tried 
to think. 

'Tt might work if we made a chair,'' 
Jerry suggested. 

So we stooped down and clasped each 
other's wrists criss-cross, the way you do 
to make a human chair, and got Greg on to 
it, with the arm that was n't hurt around 
my neck. The darkness was perfectly 
pitchy, and we had to feel for every step to 
be sure that it was a solid place and not 
the slippery edge that went straight down 
into the sea. Greg cried a little and said, 
^^Please — stop." I could feel his hair 
against my face. It was all wet, and his 
cheek was wet, too, and cold. 

The rain blew a little way into the cave, 
but not much, and we put Greg as far back 
as we could. The bottom of the cave was 
very jaggy and not comfortable to lie on, 
but we made it as soft as we could with 
the skirt and the jersey. I tripped and 
io6 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


stumbled against Jerry, and when I caught 
him I felt that he was shivering. His 
shirt was quite wet. When I asked him 
if he was cold, he said ''Not very,’’ and we 
crawled into the cave place beside Greg, 
and sat as close together as possible to keep 
warm. We could n’t see the Headland 
light, and I was rather glad, because it had 
made me almost crazy, flashing and flash- 
ing so steadily and not caring a bit. 

The rain went plop into the pools, and 
made a flattish, spattery sound on the rock. 
I don’t know why I thought of the "Air 
Religieux” just then, but I suppose it was 
because of the rain. I could see the 
straight yellow candle-flames all blue 
around the wick, and Father’s head tucked 
down looking at the ’cello, and his hands, 
nice and strong, playing it; then I got a 
little mixed and heard him calling "Chris- 
ti-ine,” fainter and fainter. I think I 
must have been almost asleep, because I 
107 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

know the real rain surprised me, like some- 
thing I ’d forgotten, and a very sharp, cor- 
nery rock was poking into my back. 

It was then that Greg said : 

''Want — Simpson.’’ 

That frightened me more than anything 
almost, for Simpson was a sort of stuffed 
flannel duck-thing that he ’d had when he 
was very little, and he had n’t thought of 
it for years. None of us ever knew why 
he called it "Simpson,” but he adored the 
thing and made it sleep beside him in the 
crib every night. But that was when he 
was three, and "Simpson” had been for 
ages on the top shelf where we keep the 
toys that we think we ’ll play with again 
sometime before we ’re really grown up. 
We never have done it yet, but there are 
certain ones that we could n’t possibly give 
away, not even to the Deservingest poor 
children. 

So when Greg said that, in a tired, far- 
io8 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

off sort of way, it did frighten me, because 
I had heard of people dying when they 
were ravingly delirious. Greg was nT 
raving exactly, but it was almost worse, 
because his voice was so small and differ- 
ent from his own dear usual one. When I 
told him I could n’t get Simpson I tried to 
make my voice sound soft and cooey like 
Mother’s when she ’s sorry, but it went up 
into a queer squeak instead, and I could n’t 
finish somehow. Greg kept saying, 
''Simpson ; — please — ” and crying to him- 
self. 

I heard Jerry feeling around in the dark 
and then the click of his knife opening. I 
could n’t think what he was doing, but af- 
ter quite a long time he pushed something 
into my hand and said : 

"Does that feel anything like it?” 

"Like what ?” I said, but the next min- 
ute I knew. 

It did feel like Simpson — ^soft and flan- 
109 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

nelly, with a round, bumpy sort of head at 
one end. 

''Oh, how did you do it !” I said. "Oh, 
Jerry, you brick!’’ 

"I chopped a big piece out of your skirt,” 
he said. "I hope you don’t mind. I hap- 
pened to have the string off the sandwich 
bundle in my pocket, and I squeezed up a 
head and tied it.” 

Greg was a little frightened when Jerry 
leaned over him suddenly. 

"It ’s just me, Greg,” Jerry said; "just 
Jerry-0. Here ’s Simpson, old lamb.” 

I ’d never heard Jerry’s voice at all like 
that before. I don’t know whether Greg 
really thought it was Simpson, but he 
took it and sighed — a long, quivery sort of 
sigh, the way very little children do when 
they’re asleep sometimes. 

Then there was no sound at all but the 
different horrid noises that the Monster 
made. 


no 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


Presently I felt Jerry start, and then he 
shuffled back a little so that he was quite 
tight against my knees. I asked him what 
was the matter, and he said '‘Nothing.” 
After a while, though, he said: 

"Chris, I ’d better tell you.” 

"What ? Oh, what is it ?” I said. 

"Do you remember how the tide was 
when we came out ?” he asked. 

"Yes,” I said; "on the ebb. Don't you 
remember the rocks at Wecanicut, with 
bushels of wet sea-weed hanging off?” 

"Well?” Jerry said. 

I did n't understand for a minute, then I 
whispered : 

"Do — you mean — ” 

"A wave just hit my foot,” said Jerry 
in a low voice. 

The first thing that we did was a lot of 
quick figuring. We thought fearfully 
hard and remembered that Turkshead 


III 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


Rock was just coming out of water when 
we left Wecanicut at four o'clock, so that 
the tide must have been within about an 
hour of ebb. Therefore full flood would 
be at eleven o'clock. But we had n’t any 
idea of whether it was ten or eleven or 
twelve, because there was no light to see 
Jerry's watch by. He had just an ordi- 
nary Ingersoll, not the grand Radiolite 
kind that you can see in the dark and it was 
perfectly maddening to hear it ticking 
away cheerfully, and no good to us at all. 
Just then something cold wrapped itself 
around my ankle. It was the edge of an- 
other wavelet. 

We knew that if the cave was going fo 
be flooded we must get Greg out of it be- 
fore the water came much higher, but it 
was still raining pitch-forks outside, and 
we did n't know whether to risk waiting a 
bit longer or not. 

‘Terhaps there 's sea-weed and we can 

II2 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

feel high watermark,” I said. ^^Try, 
Jerry.” 

We felt all the way around the sides of 
the cave toward the bottom, but as far as 
we could tell there was no sea-weed at all. 

‘'That does nT help us much,” Jerry 
said, “because we don't know whether the 
tide is really full now and has covered it, 
or whether it just does n't grow here.” 

We curled our feet under us and waited. 
We could hear the water sloshing around 
very close to us. Once when I put out my 
hand it went right into a cold pool. It was 
then that Jerry had a most wonderful idea. 
I heard his knife snap open again and 
asked him what it was this time. 

“If I take the crystal off my watch,” he 
said, “I can feel where the hands are.” 

I heard the little clicking pop that the 
front of a watch makes when you pry it 
off, and I knew he was feeling the hands 
very gently. 


113 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


^The little one 's in line with the winder 
stem thing/' he said, ''and the big one — 
Chris, it 's about twenty minutes of twelve. 
The water can't come any higher. We 
must have had the worst of it." 

It was queer that I cried then, because 
I hadn't felt at all like crying when we 
thought that the cave would be flooded. 

Greg had been quiet for so long that it 
frightened me suddenly, and I groped after 
him to be sure that he was all right. I 
found his hand, and I couldn't believe that 
it was really hot when ours were so cold. 
His forehead was hot, too, and dry, in spite 
of his hair being damp still from the rain. 
He curled his hand into mine and said very 
clearly : 

"Will you please bring me a drink of 
water ?" 

It was perfectly awful, because he said 
it so politely and very carefully, as if he 
were trying not to bother somebody. And 
114 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

there was no drink to give him. I thought 
of the people in stories who lie on deserts 
and battle-fields burning in agonies of 
fever, but I couldn't remember reading 
about anybody dying of fever on a rock 
in the middle of the sea. I dipped my 
handkerchief in the pool just beside me 
and laid it, all dripping, on Greg's fore- 
head. I didn't know whether it was a 
proper First Aid thing to do, but he seemed 
to like it and was still again, holding my 
hand. Presently he said: 

‘'Mother, why isn't there a drink?" 

“This is awful, Chris," Jerry said. 

Then I thought of the rain-pools. 
There were lots, of course, in the hollows 
of the Monster, but we had nothing to 
scoop up the water with. Greg's forehead 
was just as hot as ever, and he thrashed 
about and hurt his shoulder and cried 
miserably. 

I don't know how Jerry could have 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

thought of so many things; for it was he 
who thought of very carefully breaking 
the bottom off the root-beer bottle and 
using it for a cup. Of course the bottom 
might have cracked all to pieces, but it was 
quite heavy and Jerry was very careful. 
It came off wonderfully well, though 
rather jaggy. Jerry tried to grind the 
cutty edges off by rubbing them against the 
rock, but it didn’t work. Then we re- 
membered being very thirsty once on a 
long picnic-walk ages ago, and Father 
wrapping his handkerchief around the top 
of the tin can the soup had come in and 
giving us a drink at a pump. So we knew 
that we could do that with the broken bot- 
tle. Jerry dodged out into the rain 
through the tide-pools and came back after 
a while with some water. 

'T couldn’t get much,” he said, ‘‘because 
the place I found was very shallow, but I 
can go again.” 

ii6 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

I remembered reading in books that you 
must nT give much water to fever-stricken 
people in any case. We lifted Greg's head 
up, — that is, Jerry did, while I held the 
root-beer bottle glass, and said : 

''Here 's the drink, Gregs, dear.” 

It was very hard to tell what I was 
doing, and some of the water trickled over 
the handkerchief and down the front of 
Greg’s jumper. But he drank the rest, 
and said : "Thank you very much” in the 
same careful voice. 

"Oh, I wish he would n’t be so blooming 
polite !” Jerry said sharply, as we were lay- 
ing Greg back again, and I felt something 
wet and warm splash down on my wrist. 
But I did n’t tell Jerry I ’d felt it. 


117 


CHAPTER X 


I F I wrote volumes and volumes I 
couldn’t begin to tell how long that 
night seemed. It was longer than years 
and years in prison; it was as long as a 
century. I think Jerry slept a little, and 
perhaps I did, too, for when I peered out 
at the cave entrance again there were two 
or three bluish, wet stars in the piece of 
sky I could see, and the rain-sound had 
stopped. Jerry was huddled up at my feet 
with his dear old head propped uncomfort- 
ably against me. He was snoring a little, 
and somehow it was the nicest sound I ’d 
ever heard. Greg’s hand was still in mine, 
and it was not very hot. 

Dawn always disappoints me a little. 
You think it ’s going to be perfectly gorge- 
ous, and then it ’s usually nothing but one 

ii8 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

cold, pinkish streak, and the shadows all 
going the wrong way. But when I saw a 
faint wet grayness beginning to creep 
along the horizon beyond the Headland, I 
thought it was the most wonderful thing 
I ’d ever seen in my life. The gray spread 
till the whole sky was the color of zinc, 
with the sea a little darker, and then one 
spikey yellow strip began to show on the 
sky-line. I could see Greg at last, with 
the jersey under his head, and the white 
brocade waistcoat all dark and stained at 
the shoulder, and his poor dear face 
ghastly white. And Jerry asleep, with the 
ruffle still pinned to his wet shirt and a big 
hole torn in the knee of his knickerbockers. 
And I saw the slimy pools that the tide had 
left beside us — it was on the ebb again — 
and the pieces of the root-beer bottle that 
Jerry had broken off, and the horrible, 
high, black head of the Sea Monster above 
us. 

1 19 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


There was no boat of any sort to be 
seen, near or far away, but I woke Jerry so 
that we could both keep watch in case one 
came. Just as Jerry crawled out of the 
cave and stretched himself stiffly, Greg 
took his hand away from mine and blinked 
out at the sky, and said in almost his own 
voice : 

‘'Have we been here all the time?’’ 

“Yes, all the time, ducky,” I said, and 
then I cried, “Don’t try to move, Gregs !” 
for I saw him trying to squirm over. 

He lay back and said “Why?” but then 
in an instant he knew why. I could n’t do 
anything but cuddle my cheek down 
against his, and he sobbed : 

“Make me stop crying, Chris.” 

The light grew stronger and stronger 
till there were shadows among the rocks 
and Wecanicut came out green and brown. 
Jerry came back presently, and I wondered 
if he ’d seen anything, but he said: 

120 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


‘'Chris, I just wanted to ask you. How 
long does it take for a person to starve?’’ 

I said days, I thought, and Jerry sighed 
a little and went back to his watching- 
place. Somehow I did n’t feel very 
hungry, myself, — ^that is, not the kind of 
hungry you are when you ’ve played tennis 
all morning and then gone in swimming. 
There was a sharp, sickish feeling inside 
me and my head felt a little queer, but it 
was not exactly like being hungry. 

I think Greg’s arm must have stopped 
hurting quite so badly, or else he was being 
tremendously spunky, because we talked a 
lot and I told him that Father would come 
for us pretty soon. I did n’t feel at all 
sure of this, because I knew that Father 
would never have given up the Sea Mon- 
ster the night before if he ’d had any 
idea we were there. But it was so per- 
fectly blessed to have Greg talking sensibly 
at all, even with such a wobbly sort of 


I2I 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


voice, that I did nT much care what I said. 

All at once Jerry came tumbling around 
the corner, shouting : 

‘^Oh, Chris, come quick ! Hurry 
I left Greg and ran after Jerry, and I ’d 
been sitting so long humped up on the 
rocks that my knees gave way and I barked 
my shins against a sharp ledge. I did n’t 
even know it until ever so long afterwards, 
when I found a bruise as big as a saucer 
and remembered then. Jerry did n’t need 
to point so wildly out across the water; I 
saw the boat before he could say a word. 
It was a catboat, quite far off, tacking 
down from the Headland. The sail was 
orange, and we ’d never seen an orange 
sail in our harbor or anywhere, in fact, so 
we knew it must be a strange boat. 

Jerry pulled off his shirt like winking 
and stood there in his bare arms waving it 
madly. We both began to shout before 
the catboat people could possibly have 


122 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


heard us, but we thought that they might 
see the white shirt flying up and down. 
The boat was tacking a long leg and a 
short one. The long one carried it so far 
out that we thought it was going to cross 
the mouth of the bay and not come near 
enough to see us. Jerry stopped shouting 
just long enough to gasp : 

‘'When she 's all ready to go about on the 
short tack is the time to yell loudest.’’ 

But the next short tack seemed to bring 
the boat no nearer than before, and the 
long leg carried it so far away that it was 
no more use shouting to the orange sail 
than to a stupid old herring-gull. 

“Could you wave for a bit, Chris ?” Jerry 
said. “My arms are off.” 

So I took the shirt and waved it by its 
sleeves, and the catboat began another 
short tack. It was just then that we saw 
something black flap-flapping against the 
sail. 


123 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


‘'They Ve tied a coat or something to 
the flag halyard, and they Te running it up 
and down,’' Jerry said. “They 're trying 
to get here, but they have to tack. Don’t 
you see^ Chris?” 

Of course I saw, but I didn’t blame 
Jerry for being snappy at the last minute. 

The next tack showed very plainly that 
the boat was really coming to the Sea 
Monster, and somebody stood up in the 
stern and shouted. We shouted back — 
one last howl — and then stood there pant- 
ing, because there was no use in wasting 
any more breath and our throats were 
quite split as it was. When the catboat 
came a little nearer we saw that there was 
only one man in it, and, sure enough, an old 
blue jersey was tied to the flag halyard. 
The man turned the boat around very 
neatly — I don’t know the right sailing 
word for it — and anchored. Then he 
climbed into the dinghy that was trailing 
124 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

along behind and began rowing to the Sea 
Monster. 

I sat down on the rock and I had to 
keep swallowing, because I felt as if my 
heart were bumping up against my throat. 
To save time, before the man landed, Jerry 
started to shout what had happened. 
There was n’t much left of his voice, but 
he managed to do it somehow. 

''We ’ve been here all night,” he called 
huskily. "We came out to explore this 
thing, and our boat got away, and our little 
brother fell off the top and is hurt awfully, 
and” (this was just as the man climbed 
ashore on the sea-weedy rocks) "and we’d 
always called this place the 'Sea Monster’ 
because it looked like one, but now we 
know it is one.” 

The man was looking at us very hard, 
particularly at me, and he said : 

"The 'Sea Monster’ !” Then he looked 
again and said "Oh !” 

125 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

He was a nice tall man, with a brown, 
squarish face, quite thin, and twinkly blue 
eyes and a lot of dark hair that blew 
around like Jerry’s. He looked from one 
to the other of us and nodded his head to 
himself. I suppose we did look very 
queer, — quite dirty, and Jerry with the tin- 
foil-buckled belt still around him and no 
shirt ; and myT)loomers dangling down like 
a Turkish person’s because of the elastics 
having burst when I fell down. 

‘Tt feeems,” said our man, ‘That I have 
arrived in the nick of time to perform a 
daring rescue.” 

He said it in a funny make-believe way, 
as if he were doing one of our plays, and 
then suddenly the twinklyness went out of 
his eyes and he said : 

“But take me to Gregory.” 

If we had n’t been so perfectly bursting 
with thankfulness and so tired of shout- 
ing and the cold and the whole hideous 
126 


US AND THE BOTTLE- MAN 

place, we should have wondered how on 
earth he knew Greg’s name, because 
neither of us had mentioned it. But we 
did n’t think of it then, and just snatched 
his hands and pulled him over the rocks, 
trying to tell him a little how glad we were 
to see him. 

When he saw Greg, his face grew quite 
different — very sorry, and not twinkly at 
all and he went down on his knees (he 
could n’t have stood up in the back of the 
cave) and he said: 

'Toor old man !” And then, 'T wonder 
who had the worst night of it?” 

We said, ''Greg, of course.” 

But our man said, "I wonder.” 

Then he changed again, and instead of 
being all sorry and gentle, he got quite 
commanding and very quick. 

''Chris, you stay here,” he said. "Ger- 
ald, come with me, — and here, put this 


127 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


He pulled of¥ his gray flannel coat and 
tossed it to Jerry, and Jerry did put it on 
and ran after him, tucking up the sleeves. 
I saw them get into the dinghy and row 
back to the boat, and I said : 

^'Oh, Gregs, we ’re going home, we ’re 
going home !” and we both cried a little. 

They came batk after what seemed a 
long time, and our man said : 

''While I ’m fixing Gregory, you and 
Gerald tackle this.” 

It was half a loaf of bread and some 
potted beef done up in oiled paper, and I ’m 
sure Jerry ate the oiled paper, too. I ’d 
heard of starving people falling on food 
and rending it savagely, but I never knew 
exactly what rending was until we did it to 
the bread. We gave some of it to Greg, 
too, while our man was fixing him. 

I never saw any one before who could do 
things so fast and so gently. He had nice, 
brown, quick hands, and he looked so 
128 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

grown up and useful. He ’d brought a 
roll of bandage stuff — the kind with a blue 
wrapper that you keep in First Aid kits — 
and a book that had Coast Pilot Guide 
and Harbor Entrances of New England” 
on the cover. I did n’t see what he could 
want that for, except on the boat, till he 
put it under Greg’s armpit and bandaged 
his arm across it to keep it steady. The 
white waistcoat was in our man’s way, so 
'he ripped it down the side and got it off 
entirely. 

^T was an explorer,” Greg explained 
shakily. 

‘'He was Baroo, the Madagascar cabin- 
boy,” Jerry said, gnawing the loaf, and I 
thought it seemed years ago that we had 
trekked across Wecanicut. 

‘T see,” said our man, in his nice, kind, 
reliable way, and then he said to Greg, ‘T 
did n’t hurt you much, did I, old fellow ?” 

And Greg shook his head, and said : 

129 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


^Thank you for coming/’ 

That was what we all felt, but none of 
us had put it so simply before. 

'What ’s this?” the man said, as he was 
gathering up the rest of the bandages. 

It was the Simpson-thing, and it did 
look very funny by daylight, I must say, — 
just a wob of blue flannel tied with a 
string. I was going to explain, but Jerry 
said, with his mouth full : 

"Oh, just something we had,” and 
stuffed it away in the kit-bag. He was 
quite red. Boys are funny sometimes. 

"Now,” said our man, "comes the em- 
barkation, and I ’m afraid I ’ll have to hurt 
you a little, Greg.” 

He picked Greg up in one swinging 
swoop, and I wished that Jerry and I had 
been strong enough to do that last night. 
Greg had only time for one gasp before 
he was quite comfortable against our 
man’s shoulder. But he was brave, be- 
130 



“ Ye be three Poore Mariners.” 



US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


cause it must have hurt like anything, 
even then, and I could see his jaw set hard. 
Jerry and I gathered up the kit-bag and 
the jersey and what was left of the skirt 
and followed along. Just beside the 
dinghy our man paused and looked all 
around at the ugly blackness of the Sea 
Monster and up to the jaggedy top of it. 
Then he looked down at Greg and smiled 
a little sorry smile, and said very slowly 
and gently : 

''Ye be Three Poore Mariners.” 

Jerry and I stared at each other, and I 
said: 

"You must know that song, too. We 
used to pretend being marooned, but we 
never thought it would really happen.” 

Then Jerry said suddenly: 

"By the way, what's your name, sir?” 

"You 'll have to row, Jerry,” said our 
man, "because I must keep the wounded 
just the way he is.” Then he said: 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


‘^Some people call me Andrew, but my 
intimate friends call me 'The Bottle 
Man’/’ 




133 


CHAPTER XI 


I THOUGHT that perhaps it might be 
a dream after all, because that ’s the 
way things happen in dreams, and that I 
would wake up and find it still night and 
the rain splashing down and poor Greg 
crying. But the dinghy was real and so 
were the slippy slidy wet rocks, and I had 
to watch what I was about and not go 
staring in astonishment at our man. We 
all had to be careful about the rocks, and 
that ’s why none of us said anything till 
we were in the dinghy, except for one gasp 
of astonishment. 

''But how could you be?’’ Jerry and I 
asked together when we all were safely 
aboard, with our man in the stern holding 
Greg carefully. 


133 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

*^But how did you get un-oldened?^’ 
Greg asked. 

''Wft thought you were a very old gen- 
tleman/’ I explained giddily. 

‘T am,” said the Bottle Man. ''An- 
cient.” 

"But what about your gray hairs?” 
Jerry demanded, tugging away at the oars. 

"If you Ve more than one gray hair 
you Ve gray hairs,” said our man. "I 
have eleven.” 

He ducked down his nice, dark, rumpled- 
up head for us to look, but I must say I 
couldn’t see more than one little one all 
buried among the black. 

"You ’re grown up, but you ’re not old 
at all,” I said. "We ’ve been imagining 
you as an aged old man with a long white 
beard.” 

"I never mentioned a long white beard,” 
the Bottle Man said. 

"Yes; but what about your tottering 

134 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


along on two sticks?” Jerry said suddenly. 

But we had come alongside the catboat, 
and no one could talk for a little while 
until we were all arranged in the boat and 
our man had told Jerry and me to pull a 
mattressy thing out of the tiny little cabin 
and had laid Greg on it in the bottom of 
the boat. He gave him some stuff out of 
a little flasky bottle, too, and Greg sput- 
tered over it and said ''Ugh!” but after- 
ward he said : 

"It 's nice and hot inside when I thought 
it had gone.” 

And we could n’t talk, either, when our 
man was hoisting the orange-painted sail 
and hauling up the anchor and running 
back and forth to pull ropes and things. 
But when he was settled at the tiller and 
all of us were cosy with sweaters and 
coats, Jerry asked him again. 

"Why, you see,” the Bottle Man said, 
"something had hit me very hard and for a 

135 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


long time all that I was able to do was to 
totter along on the two sticks.’’ 

''But what hit you?” I asked. 

He dropped his voice, because Greg was 
actually asleep. 

"An inconsiderate shell,” he said. 

For a minute, because I was so used to 
thinking of him on the lonely island, I 
imagined a big conch-shell being hurled at 
him from somewhere. Then Jerry and I 
both gasped: 

"You mean you were in the war?” 

"Exactly,” said our man. 

"And the bearded man was a doctor?’^ 
Jerry asked. 

"That he was !” the Bottle Man said. 

We both asked him questions at once, 
but he was dreadfully vague, and kept 
looking at Greg and the sail and the shore, 
but we managed to piece together that 
he ’d been wounded twice and left for dead 
in No-Man’s-Land (after doing all sorts 
136 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

of heroic things, we know) and finally sent 
home to America from a French hospital. 
We found out, too, that his aunt was the 
''good sour’ he talked about in his letters, 
and that she half-owned the island and 
had a beautiful big old house on it where 
she made him come while he convalesced. 
It was very hard to find out all these 
things, because he would be so mysterious 
and kept saying "Ah !” and "That ’s an- 
other story !” He also wanted to hear all 
of our adventures, but we wouldn’t tell 
him those until we ’d heard some of his. 

Jerry asked him suddenly about the scar 
where the sea-thing bit him, or stabbed 
him, or whatever it did, and our man 
twinkled and pulled up his sleeve. And 
there, just above his right elbow where the 
tan stopped, was a little white three-cor- 
nered scar, sure enough. Jerry looked 
and said "Oh!” and our man said 
"Ah-ha!” 


137 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

And at the end of all the stories we 
realized that we did n’t know, even now, 
how he happened to be sailing along just 
in time to rescue us. 

'T sailed all the way from Bluar Boor,” 
he said, ‘'on purpose to see you. To tell 
the truth, I had designs on the ‘Sea Mon- 
ster’ which will not be carried out now. I 
laid up last night inside the Headland 
breakwater and made an early start this 
morning for the last leg of the trip. I 
recognized the ‘Sea Monster’ a long way 
olf, but I must say I was surprised when I 
saw Jerry’s shirt signaling so distressfully. 
Of course I knew who you were at once, 
when you called the place the ‘Sea Mon- 
ster,’ but Christine did stagger me for a 
minute.” 

“Stagger you ?” I said. “Why ?” 

“I ’ve been thinking you were ‘Chris- 
topher’ all this time, you see,” he said, 
“but, being a man of infinite resource and 
138 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

unparalleled sagacity, I immediately per- 
ceived the true state of affairs/’ 

^^Are you a professor?” Jerry asked. 

‘'Heavens, no !” our man laughed. 
"Why do you ask?” 

"On account of your style,” Jerry said. 
"It ’s so grand and stately. So are your 
letters, sometimes.” 

"I am but a poor bridge-builder,” the 
Bottle Man said, "but I can turn words on 
or off as I want ’em, like a hose.” 

By this time the boat was almost in, and 
our man brought it up neatly to the float 
beside the ferry-slip, and some men came 
over and helped him to moor it. Then he 
got out and came back in a minute with 
the man who always meets the ferry in an 
automobile to hire. The man looked as if 
he were in a dazy dream, which I don’t 
blame him for at all, because we did look 
quite weird. He and the Bottle Man 
lifted Gregg, mattress and all, and stowed 

139 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


him in on the back seat of the automobile. 
The rest of us perched on the front seat 
and the running-board, trying to conceal 
our strange appearance from the staring 
of quite a crowd which was gathering, as 
it was just ferry-time. 

Our man said, 'T7 Luke Street, and go 
carefully.’’ It surprised us for a second 
to hear him say our address as if he ’d 
known it always, but then we realized that 
he had known it for quite a long time. 

I think none of us will ever forget the 
way the house looked as we swung around 
the corner and came up Luke Street. 
Just the end of the gable first, behind the 
two big beeches in the front garden, — oh, 
we had n’t seen it for years and centuries, 
— and then the living-room windows open, 
with the curtains blowing, and the little 
box-bush that grows in a fat jar on the 
porch-steps. Mother was coming out at 
the front door, and she looked just the way 
140 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


she did when we got a telegram once say- 
ing that Grannie was very ill. Jerry 
jumped off the running-board before the 
automobile stopped, and he let Mother hug 
him right there in the middle of the path, 
which is a thing he generally hates. By 
that time our man and the chauffeur were 
lifting Greg and the mattress out, and 
Mother let go of Jerry and stood quite 
still, with her face all white and hollow- 
looking. We all began talking at once, 
and the Bottle Man managed to tell 
Mother more about everything in a few 
minutes than you would think possible. 

He and the automobile man, who still 
looked flabbergasted, put Greg on the big 
bed in mother's room while she was tele- 
phoning to Dr. Topham. We all felt 
fidgetty and unsettled until Dr. Topham 
came, which was really very soon. I think 
he must have broken all the speed rules. 
Jerry and I, who had put on some other 
141 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

clothes, sat in the living-room with the 
Bottle Man while the doctor set Greg’s 
arm, which was fractured. Mother 
stayed with Greg. The Bottle Man told 
us things about the war and his island, and 
he played soft, wonderful music on the 
piano to make us forget about Greg and 
the Sea Monster and all the awful things 
that had happened. 


CHAPTER XII 


I T was the queerest topsy-turvy morning 
I ever spent. After Mother came 
down and told us that Gregs was fixed and 
that Doctor Tapham had given him some- 
thing to make him sleep, we all went in.and 
had lots of breakfast. — Mother and the 
Bottle Man, too, for neither of them had 
had any. You would never have thought 
we 'd eaten the bread and potted beef there 
on the Monster, if you ’d seen the way 
we devoured the eggs and bacon and honey 
and toast that Katy and Lena kept bring- 
ing in. They both brought the things, be- 
cause they were so glad to see us and so 
afraid that it had been their fault that we 
went to Wecanicut. But we told Mother 
that it was n't 

While we ate, Mother told us everything 
143 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

that had happened at home. She and 
Father came in on the six o'clock train and 
found Katy and Lena quite worried be- 
cause we had n't come back yet, but no one 
got really frightened until later. Father 
thought of Wecanicut and went to the 
ferry to ask, but Captain Lewis was n't 
there, and of course the cross new captain 
that we 'd seen looking at the book had n't 
even noticed us and would n't have known 
us if he had. Our nice Portuguese man 
remembered our going over and was per- 
fectly certain that he 'd seen us come back, 
too, which of course he had n't. So, after 
setting the policeman and every one else to 
search town. Father and Captain Moss 
went to Wecanicut on the chance. They 
reached the point at a quarter after nine, 
which was when we saw the lights, and 
they never for a moment thought of the 
Sea Monster, because no one had missed 
the old dinghy from the ferry-slip and they 
144 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

did n’t imagine that we could get there. 
They didn’t find any trace of us at the 
usual picnic place on Wecanicut, because 
we had everything with us, and though 
some of the Fort soldiers searched, too, 
nothing could be found. Father had been 
up all night and was still out, telephoning 
to all sorts of places. 

If I deserved any punishment for its 
being my fault, I think I had it when I 
thought of how hard Father had been 
working and how wretched and anxious 
they all were. I had n’t quite realized that 
before. 

Strangely enough, right after breakfast 
Jerry and I began to yawn tremendously, 
and Mother bundled us off to bed. We 
hadn’t had time to think of it, but of 
course we had n’t slept particularly well on 
the Sea Monster. Just as we were go- 
ing upstairs. Aunt Ailsa came running in 
with her hat on, crying: 

145 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

'T:s Katy telling the truth?’' 

And then we both leaped on her from 
the stairs. When she ducked her head up 
from our hugs, the Battle Man was stand- 
ing in the doorway, looking queer. 

''Ailsa!” he said; and that really did 
floor us, because we knew we 'd never even 
mentioned her existence to him. She 
stood staring, and then put her hand up 
against her throat, exactly like somebody 
in a book. 

‘‘Andrew!” she said, in a faint little 
voice. 

Mother looked at them, and then said : 

“Bedtime, chicks! Come along!” and 
went up with us. 

It was quite weird, going to -bed at nine 
o’clock in the morning. We pulled down 
all the shades so we could sleep, though I 
don’t really think we needed to, because I 
know that as soon as I shut my eyes I was 
sound asleep. 


146 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


When I woke up the room was quite 
dim, and Mother and Father were standing 
at the door talking. Father looked awful- 
ly tired, but dear and glad, and he 
would n’t let me tell him how sorry I was 
about it all. Mother said that even more 
surprising things had been happening, and 
that if I ’d slept enough for a time, I ’d bet- 
ter come down to supper. That was 
queer, too, — dressing in the twilight and 
coming down to supper, instead of to 
breakfast. 

We all talked a lot at supper, of course, 
and people kept asking questions. I had 
to do most of the answering, because Jerry 
always left out the parts about himself, 
and yet it was he who did all the wonderful 
things. We had bottles of ginger-pop, be- 
cause it was a sort of feast, and Father 
got up and proposed toasts, just like a real 
banquet. First he said : 


147 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


“Jerry! I ’m glad to have a son with a 
level head/’ 

Then he said : 

“Christine !” and looked at me very hard, 
till I wanted to turn away. But they all 
drank it just the same as Jerry’s, 
though I did n’t deserve it at all. Then 
Father held up his glass and said very 
gently : 

“Greg!” And when I tried to drink it, 
the ginger-pop choked me, and Jerry 
banged me between the shoulders, which, 
of course, only made it worse, because it 
was n’t that sort of choke. 

Then Jerry jumped up and said: 

“We ought to drink to the Bottle Man, 
/ think. And, by the way, 'Bottle Man’ 
looks all right in a letter, but it ’s queer, 
rather, to say to you. Have n’t you really 
a real name?” 

Our man and Aunt Ailsa looked at each 
other as if they were going to say some- 
148 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

thing, and then the Bottle Man twinkled, 
and said : 

“Very soon you ’ll be able to call me 
Uncle Andrew.” 

This part seems to be nothing but ex- 
planations, which are horrid, but there 
were lots, and I can’t help it. Of course 
Jerry and I sat staring in surprise, and 
there had to be explanations. And what 
do you think ! Our own Bottle Man 
was that “Somebody Westland” that Aunt 
Ailsa had wept so about. The casualty 
list was perfectly right in saying that he 
was wounded and missing (though it came 
very late, because by that time he was in 
America), and she thought, of cpurse, that 
he was dead, because she did n’t hear from 
him. And he ’d written to her from the 
French hospital and the letter never came. 
When he came back, all sick and wounded, 
to America, somebody who didn’t know 
anything about it told him that Aunt Ailsa 
149 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

was going to marry Mr. Something-or- 
other, so our poor man went off sadly to 
his island and didn’t write to her any 
more. He ’d never heard of us, because 
of course her name is n’t Holford. And 
she'd never heard of his aunt, nor Blue 
Harbor, nor the island, so of course she 
didn’t know anything about it when we 
read his letters to her. Oh, it was very 
tangly and bewildering and it took lots of 
explaining, but at the end of supper there 
was just enough ginger-pop left to drink to 
both of them. 

Afterwards she and Father played the 
’cello and piano, because we asked them to, 
and the Bottle Man sat with his arm 
over Jerry’s shoulders, watching, with the 
light on his nice, brown, kind face. And 
Father sat with his head tucked down over 
the ’cello, just the way I remembered there 
on the Sea Monster, and the candles 
shone on Aunt Ailsa’s amberish-colored 

150 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 

hair, and I thought she was the beauti- 
fullest person in the world, except Mother. 
I thought about a lot of things while the 
music went on, and wondered whether 
we M ever want to picnic on Wecanicut 
again. But I knew we would, because 
Wecanicut is a kind, friendly, safe place 
(and we do go there now lots, only we 
don’t look at the Sea Monster much). 
I thought, too, that perhaps if we ’d never 
thrown the message in the bottle into the 
harbor. Aunt Ailsa and Uncle Andrew 
would never have been married and lived 
happily ever after, — that is, they ’ve lived 
happily so far and I think they ’ll keep on. 
Because if we had n’t, the Bottle Man 
would never have come sailing down to see 
us, and he might still be thinking Aunt 
Ailsa had married the Mr. Thingummy, 
when she had n’t at all. 

He was such a nice Bottle Man! I 
sat there on the couch and thought how 

151 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


splendid it would be when he was our own 
uncle, and I laughed when I remembered 
how we 'd imagined that he was an ancient 
old gentleman. The wind began to rise 
outside. I could hear it whisking around 
and bumping in the chimney, and I thought 
how glad I was — oh, how glad, glad I was 
— that we were all at home, and I listened 
hard to the ’cello and tried not to remember 
the horrible old Sea Monster. 

Mother slipped in and sat down beside 
me, and when the music ended, she said : 

‘‘Greg wants to see the ‘Bottle Man’.” 

We asked if we might come, too, be- 
cause we had n’t seen Greg since they car- 
ried him up to the house, all bloody and 
rumpled and dirty. So we all went up, 
and Mother tip-toed in first with the lamp. 
He looked almost quite like himself, with 
clean pajamas and his hair brushed and all 
the frightened, hurt look gone out of his 
face. 


152 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


The Bottle Man (I almost forget to 
call him that, because we Ve been calling 
him Uncle Andrew for months) leaned 
over and said : 

''Lots better now, old man?” 

Greg said "Lots,” and then, "But what 
I did want to ask you is, how you sailed all 
the way from the Mid-Equator to here in 
such a little boat?” 

The Bottle Man laughed, and then said 
very soberly : 

"But are you sure you measured it 
right? To-morrow I 'll show you on the 
map.” 

We only stayed a minute, and then said 
good-night and went out. I was the last 
one, and just as I was going through the 
door, Greg said : 

"Chris! Comeback!” 

So I went and sat on the edge of the bed 
in the dark, and Greg put his good arm 
around my neck when I bent down. 

153 


US AND THE BOTTLE MAN 


you know, Chris,’’ he said, ^^some- 
times that night I think I thought you were 
Mother. Oh, Chris, I do love you awfully 
much !” 

And I was happier then than I ’d been 
since — oh, it seemed centuries ago. 


\ 


154 











